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| | E | G# |
| | September comes to Texas just | one time every year, |
| | A | F# |
| so we g | et our guns and our | pickup trucks, |
| | A | B7 | E |
| and a | bunch of that | Lone Star b | eer, |
| well we head out for the open plains, |
| | G# |
| where the bi | rds they all flow like wine, |
| | A | F# |
| we h | unt them up then we s | hoot them down, |
| | A | B7 | E |
| man it ma | kes me f | eel so fi | ne, |
| The manly sport is what I'm talking about, |
| | G# |
| so you can gr | ab you a pouch of chew, |
| | A | F# |
| | If we get bored 'cause the b | irds won't fly, |
| | A | B7 | E |
| we'll shoot the r | abbits with my | .22 | . |