A Taste of Country
Before I say a word or two about these lyrics, I would like to confess that I wrote them while I was hungry. Had I eaten a chicken salad sandwich, bag of chips and a sugar cookie before sitting down to write these lyrics, these lyrics may never have been written. I will also caution you to eat before reading them. Anyway, I was born in the country and raised by country folk. This song is a tip of my hat to all the country folk around the globe. Those folks who help feed the rest of us. And how blessed we are to have food. Oh Snap! I'm hungry again. Enjoy.
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In den Warenkorb
Wunschliste
Verse1. Rooster crows,
there's a light in the kitchen.
Mama's up first then Daddy,
he's a' bitching
'bout the hole in the roof
and the two in the floor.
Home-made biscuits
dripping with molasses.
Eggs over easy.
There's bacon if you're asking.
Buttered grits in a bowl.
Hot coffee fresh brewed.
Chorus. There's more to country than pick-up trucks.
Or honky-tonks.
Or horny bucks.
There's more to country than beer or booze,
big brass buckles,
or shiny boots.
So sit a spell and grab a plate.
Let me serve you up a truth.
Those people portrayed as unschooled drunks
are the people growing our food.
Verse 2. Sun is hot,
but the wind is cooler.
Mare looking crooked
so Daddy walks up to her.
Close enough he can see
she needs a new shoe.
Chicken leg.
Nut bread straight from the oven.
Iced tea so sweet
the bees are all a' buzzing.
Blueberries? A few.
Then back to the shoe.
Chorus. There's more to country than pick-up trucks.
Or honky-tonks.
Or horny bucks.
There's more to country than beer or booze,
big brass buckles,
or shiny boots.
So sit a spell and grab a plate.
Let me serve you up a truth.
Those people portrayed as unschooled drunks
are the people growing our food.
Verse 3. Screen door creaks.
Muddy boots stop stepping
when Mama yells out,
"Wipe your feet! You're forgetting."
Hound dog on the porch
just taking a snooze.
Catfish. Coleslaw.
Add a little pepper.
Cornbread. Black beans.
What could make it better?
Apple sauce on the side,
more coffee fresh brewed.
Chorus. There's more to country than pick-up trucks.
Or honky-tonks.
Or horny bucks.
There's more to country than beer or booze,
big brass buckles,
or shiny boots.
So sit a spell and grab a plate.
Let me serve you up a truth.
Those people portrayed as unschooled drunks
are the people growing our food.
© Melanie Thompson 2023
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