Colter Wall – Talkin Prairie Boy (Guitar)

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N.C.

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My buddy's old man is back on the booze,

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He's swinging a driver at a big bull moose,

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That keeps gettin' on the goddamn property,

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Or so he says.

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Cigarettes are expensive and whisky ain't cheap,

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Winters are bitter, but the summers are sweet,

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And you can get some honestly-priced smokes over at the rez,

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If you're so inclined.

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Most of my time's spent in a big blue van,

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Just travellin' the country with a five-piece band,

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Pick a little for the folks and sing when I can,

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Granted, I'm sober.

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And other days are meant for chorin',

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Just workin' at the ranch to stave off boredom,

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And keepin' the calves from finding new ways to keel over,

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Just livin' the dream.

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I was coolin' my heels down in Tennessee,

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Post ’82 some buddies and me,

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And we were shootin' the shit,

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Till we ran outta ammunition.

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Some dude overheard from across the room,

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And instead of mindin’ his own he just assumed,

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He'd sit down next us and join in on the conversation,

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Brought over some kinda beer,       something called a IPA.

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He’s a Nashville kid in a cowboy hat,

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And he couldn’t tell a shoelace from a lariat,

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And the furthest west he’d ever been was Ohio.

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He’s talkin’ to me says he’s looking for work,

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And he didn’t mind gettin’ some dirt on his shirt,

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And would I be so kind as to hire him on, "well oh my oh",

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Surprised he didn’t bring a resume.

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He said but if you’re doin' fence, then I ain’t for hire,

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And if you’re doin' hay, then frankly I wouldn’t conspire,

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To ask me about doin' that either.

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I said “what are you good for?” and he said "Plenty",

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I could see this conversation wasn’t going any which way,

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And figured I’d do well just to leave here,

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So long buddy,                       keep your IPAs.

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Yeah, this city life has sure got me tired,

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And it’s hard for a prairie boy to admire,

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All the concrete and the towerin’ skyscrapers.

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So just as soon as I’m able to find my hat,

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I believe I’ll leave and head on back home,

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Where the tallest buildings are all grain elevators,

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Long gone to Saskatchewan.

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Yeah, I’m outta this place and bound for the farm,

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And I’m not takin' no greenhorn along,

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I have a hard enough time just keepin’ track of myself,

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But if you’re down in Nashville and tryin’ to look cool,

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But you can’t tell a pretty palomino from a mule,

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Take my advice and leave the buckaroo hat on the shelf.

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Heh, heh, heh.