Ballad of a Southern Man Whiskey Myers
Standard Tuning
No Capo
(Verse 1)
[G]My first rif[D]le wa[C]s a .2[G]43,
Papa ga[Em]ve Dadd[D]y and Da[C]ddy gave to me,[G]
and th[D]ey taught me how to sh[C]oot with a steady hand,[Em]
I guess thats somet[D]hing you don't underst[C]and.[G]
Now I grew up on a prison farm,
sneaking pulls of shine from a mason jar,
used to go fishing out pickle creek dam,
but I guess thats something you don't understand.
(Chorus)
Grandm[C]as in the kitchen;[G]
Papas drunk past dawn;[D]
We sit o[C]ut on the front porc[G]h,
Just a picki[Em]n on the s[D]ongs;[C]
and there's blood on the table,[G]
cause[C] we work for wh[G]at we have;[D]
and I was[Em] raised in th[D]is land,[C]
I guess t[Em]hats somethin[D]g you don't und[C]erstand.[G]
(Verse 2)
I still fly that southern flag,
whistling Dixieland enough to brag,
and I know all the words to simple man,
I guess thats something you don't understand.
I pledge my allegiance the original way,
say Merry Christmas not happy holidays,
I cant change my ways I know who I am,
I guess thats something you don't understand.
(Chorus)
(Bridge)
T[Bb]hey'll grind us up in a big machine;[F]
They'[C]ll feed us all on the same beliefs[G],
Ho[Bb]ly dollar and a cre[F]dit card;[C]
[Bb]but we got a way of doing [F]things,
[C]and no bankers gonna steal from me[G];
[D]they wanna tear it all apart.
(Chorus)
(Verse 1)
My first rifle was a .243,
Papa gave Daddy and Daddy gave to me.
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