The White Trash Song

(Written by Steve Young © Warner-Tamerlane Music - BMI)

Well, I wake up every morning

About the break of dawn

Hear the rooster crowing

And feel all alone

There's honeysuckle outside my window

Dew sparkling on the vines

Little squirrels a'barkin'

Like they was a mountain lion

And I get to thinking about the road

And all them times I come home again

I was born a child to these muddy roads

Looks like I'll die here lonesome as the wind

'cause all my cars they're broke down

They're laying in my front yard

I ought get one together, Lord

But the work just seems so hard

A man come by here this morning

He wanted to paint my barn

He painted See Rock City US Highway 41

I used to have a church woman

Pretty as she could be

She run off with a gospel singer up in Nashville, Tennessee

So I drank a whole lot of liquor, mama, I drank a whole lot of booze

I'm a midnight country rambler, Lord, I ain't got nothing to lose

So when you're carving my tombstone,

Honey, don't worry none about no name

You just tell 'em that he came with the morning wind

And he left with the Georgia rain

You just say he could play that fiddle

He could make that dobro ring

He could make that guitar sparkle like that early morning rain

A man come by here this morning

He wanted to paint my barn

He painted See Rock City US Highway 41