Flatland Hillbillies Songtext
von Rodney Crowell

We′re flatland hillbillies
Irish-Cajun-Creole mix
My brother's on an offshore rig
My sister′s on the pole at Slick's
Mama takes in people's washing
She was widowed by a pipeline man

We′re flatland hillbillies
Getting by on what we can
River rats and jon boat shrimpers
Trouble in our DNA
It wouldn′t be the same Port Arthur
If we got up and moved away
God forbid we hit the lotto
The chances are, we'd wind up shot


We′re flatland hillbillies
Getting by on what we can
Flatland hillbillies
Heather to the marrow bone
Working on your cars and drinking in your bars
And running every red light home

If you've never ran a trot line
Never skinned an eight-point buck
Never had a squirrel meat sandwich (Covered up in gravy)
Then I guess you′re just out of luck (And I don't mean maybe)
Living on the edge of nowhere (We ain′t going nowhere)
Isn't for the faint of heart (Oh no, we're not)

We′re flatland hillbillies
Waiting on the fire to start
Flatland hillbillies
Another other breed apart