Pure Country

There's that '94 red Ford beauty with a 4x4

Fully restored, pulling into my lane

George Strait, Shania Twain

Shaking up the window pains

AG tags on her Tennessee plates

Home team ball cap

Ponytail through the back

Faith in the Bible and the Almanac

She ain't Gucci or Prada, or Louis Vuitton, no

She's boots and jeans, and rolled-up sleeves

Ain't afraid of gettin' dirty or of punching in early

And when she gets flirty, oh Lord, have mercy on me

She ain't the watered-down version of nothin', she's as real as real can be

Yeah, she's pure country

Pure country

She's a roll down the windows, burning down a back road

Chain in the bed in case ya' need a tow

She's a midnight swimming hole, home before the rooster crows

Next day plantin' that corn in rows

She's, "Yes sir," "Yes ma'am," dirt on her hands

Lord, I know I'm a lucky man

She ain't Gucci or Prada, or Louis Vuitton, no

She's boots and jeans, and rolled-up sleeves

Ain't afraid of gettin' dirty or of punching in early

And when she gets flirty, oh Lord, have mercy on me

She ain't the watered-down version of nothin', she's as real as real can be

Yeah, she's pure country

She's a sixty-hour work week

She's some sour in her sweet tea

The down-home angel that I prayed for

And I thank God that she's with me

She ain't Gucci or Prada, or Louis Vuitton, no

She's boots and jeans, and rolled-up sleeves

Ain't afraid of gettin' dirty or of punching in early

And when she gets flirty, oh Lord, have mercy on me, on me

She ain't the watered-down version of nothin', she's as real as real can be

Yeah, she's pure country

She's pure country

That girl, she's pure country

Aw, yeah, she is

Aw, honey, let me take them boots off for you

Fixed you supper

Aw, come on