Standard Tuning No Capo (Verse 1)

^GMy first rif^Dle wa^Cs a .2^G43, Papa ga^Emve Dadd^Dy and Da^Cddy gave to me, ^G and th^Dey taught me how to sh^Coot with a steady hand, ^Em I guess thats somet^Dhing you don't underst^Cand. ^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^Cas in the kitchen;^G Papas drunk past dawn; ^D We sit o^Cut on the front porc^Gh, Just a picki^Emn on the s^Dongs; ^C and there's blood on the table, ^G cause^C we work for wh^Gat we have; ^D and I was^Em raised in th^Dis land, ^C I guess t^Emhats somethin^Dg you don't und^Cerstand. ^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^Bbhey'll grind us up in a big machine; ^F They'^Cll feed us all on the same beliefs^G, Ho^Bbly dollar and a cre^Fdit card; ^C ^Bbbut we got a way of doing ^Fthings, ^Cand no bankers gonna steal from me^G; ^Dthey wanna tear it all apart.

(Chorus) (Verse 1) My first rifle was a .243, Papa gave Daddy and Daddy gave to me.

Whiskey Myers - Ballad of a southern man