1. |
I'm A Country Cliché
03:48
|
|||
|
I’m A Country Cliché (Dusty Sweeney and The Demon Drink)
Eins... zwei...drei...vier!
When life just throws ye lemons, mama said make lemonade
So I took my pain and put it in to this Country song I made
Now if you could see it in your heart to buy my merchandise
It would ease that pain if you bought right in to my musical stereotype
Cuz I’m a Country Cliché.
All Dirt Roads and highways.
Whiskey bottle for the heartaches.
Plastic Jesus giving me faith.
I met her at a local bar. She was cuter than a kitten
A country girl to my country boy, like a dog tick I was bitten
Yesterday she left me, left me nothing but this song
I guess I’ll hit the bottle now and tell y’all… how it all went wrong.
Cuz I’m a Country Cliché.
All Dirt Roads and highways.
Whiskey bottle for the heartaches.
Plastic Jesus giving me faith.
I had me some Whiskey and I got out my gun.
I jumped in my truck, and started to look, for the one who done me wrong
I found my woman in the arms of another, couldn’t bare it any more.
Billy Bob Roy, with my pride and joy, soon felt my forty-four
Cuz I’m a Country Cliché.
All Dirt Roads and highways.
Whiskey bottle for the heartaches.
Plastic Jesus giving me faith.
Now I lie in this prison cell, they’ve taken everything from me.
No Girl, no truck, no house, no dog - just a bitter memory
I’ve been through every stereotype that you’ve ever heard a country boy sing
Every word I holler for your country dollar has that old familiar ring
Cuz I’m a Country Cliché.
All Dirt Roads and highways.
Whiskey bottle for the heartaches.
Plastic Jesus giving me faith.
Cuz I’m a Country Cliché.
All Dirt Roads and highways.
Whiskey bottle for the heartaches.
Plastic Jesus giving me faith.
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
Cheatin For A Reason - Hank E. Panky
Baby when we married you knew I was country singer
A gettin drunk and laid fully paid up cowboy sinner
It’s in my DNA, to cheat and stray, and do the dirt
You’ll find knickers in my truck, and lipstick on my shirt
So I said honey
Cheatin, is as country as corn, it’s who we are,
it’s the dirt that we do
Lying and snooping is why I take
my pen to write about cheating on you
Cheatin is as country as boots, It’s in our roots,
It’s just one of the rules
If it wasn’t such a staple with the country music faithful
baby, I wouldn’t be cheating on you
But she didn’t seem to understand,
I’m just duty bound, to be a jerk
And If I’m found guilty as charged, accused of all sorts,
that’s a good day at work
Gettin all flirty with folks, being a two-timing toad,
that’s just the country way
You’ll never make it in a country song,
if you haven’t wronged, cheated or strayed
So I said honey
Cheatin, is as country as corn, it’s who we are,
it’s the dirt that we do
Lying and snooping is why I take
my pen to write about cheating on you
Cheatin is as country as boots, It’s in our roots,
It’s just one of the rules
If it wasn’t such a staple with the country music faithful
baby, I wouldn’t be cheating on you
Cheatin, is as country as corn, it’s who we are,
it’s the dirt that we do
Lying and snooping is why I take
my pen to write about cheating on you
Cheatin is as country as boots, It’s in our roots,
It’s just one of the rules
If it wasn’t such a staple with the country music faithful
baby, I wouldn’t be cheating on you
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
Don't Trouble Your Mind WIth The Truth - Phoney Tony McBride
Now when I was a young boy my daddy watched me grow
He said soon you’ll be a man one day and there’s things you outta know
If ye wanna get on well in this life, well here’s what you gotta do!
Ye need to learn how to bluff when the going gets tough
And don’t trouble your mind with truth
Now if your wife wants to know why you smell of booze
Hey honey that’s my new whiskey-flavored cologne
And if your boss wants to know why you didn’t show
It’s my dog’s irrational fear of being alone.
It’s your round at the bar, Oh my wallets in the car
Get outta there before your goose is cooked
Ye gotta look em in the eye and tell a big fat lie
And don’t trouble your mind with the truth
You gotta learn to lie son and falsify, work every scheme and con
And when needs must, and ye got a busted flush, ye gotta know how to dupe someone
If ye wanna go places you’ll need to be bearfaced when it comes to telling tall tales
Ye gotta Purge and fake and prevaricate, but never let the truth prevail
Now if your wife comes home and you’re in the arms a woman
She was measuring you up for suit
And if you’re passed the speed limit and the cops have pulled ye in
Tell em that the wind was pushing you
When a woman asks if her bum looks big in this?
Tell her that she’s never looked so cute
You gotta look em in the eye, tell a big fat lie
And don’t trouble your mind with the truth
You’ve really gotta think like a proper hoodwink,
And know how to twist the facts
Politicians, lawyers, bankers, businessmen, they’ve all got it down to a knack
You’ll never get far unless you’re armed with a pocketful of fibs and falsehoods
Ye gotta know howda lie, and falsify, and don’t trouble your mind with the truth
Now, if you’re losing your hair and you’re looking kind of bare on top
Just say you’re just saving on shampoo
If they ask what your job is, tell em you’re the boss
Of million-dollar business in Cancun
Should ye need to find a reason why someone should believe ye
Well come on, you know what to do!
Ye gotta look em in the eye, tell a big fat lie
And don’t trouble your mind with the truth
Ye gotta look em in the eye with a big fat lie
And don’t trouble your mind with the truth
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
Bounty Hunter Blues - Eamon Toolow
I guess I’m just not cut out to be a bounty hunter
There’s quite a killing to be made,
when you shoot folks by the number
There’s a big payoff when ye slay outlaws but I haven’t made jack
Cuz I’m a joke at whacking folks, I just aint got the knack
A steady hand is what ye need, but I’m too fond of booze
I’ve got those gun-slingin, contract-killin, bounty hunter blues
I yearned to be a mercenary, like the ones you read in books
I just aint got that quick-fire-action hired-assassin moves
You see drinking, and killing folks; well they just don’t seem to fit
When I get the shakes, it really makes it hard to do a hit
A steady hand is what ye need, but I’m too fond of booze
I’ve got those gun-slingin, contract-killin, bounty hunter blues
Tried everything but I’m no hit man, I just aint got the gift
Maybe I just wasn’t meant to be a dead-eye-dick
I always saw myself as part of the assassin’s creed
Truth is, I never shot a man, not a wound, a cut, or bleed
A steady hand is what ye need, but I’m too fond of booze
I’ve got those gun-slingin, contract-killin, bounty hunter blues
A steady hand is what ye need, but I’m too fond of booze
I’ve got those gun-slingin, contract-killin, bounty hunter blues
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
Country Music You'd Be Nothing Without Boozin
(Drunken Duncan McGraw)
Country music without booze
Is like a blind guitarist without the blues
When you need that perfect blend
Take pain and hurt and add liquor in
Murder ballad, dirge, laments
They all need intoxicants
To get them feelin on the edge
Try a heavy-duty beverage
Country Music you’d be nothing without boozin
There’s a shotgun waiting for you to shoot
Inside every bottle of booze
Country music without booze
Is like dynamite without a fuse
When you need something to spark
To twist the knife and make it dark
For desperation and despair
Try some homemade made liquor
Lets hear it for that moonshine hooch
The firewater, and the jungle juice
Country Music you’d be nothing without Boozin
There’s a wife getting ready to leave you
Inside every bottle of booze
Country Music you’d be nothing without Boozin
There’s every possible way to lose
Inside every bottle of booze
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
If I Don't Make It To Heaven (There's always Hell)
by Unholy Joe And The Hobs Of Hell
Now its pretty clear, after all these years
That I’ve been in this world
I aint booked my place through those pearly gates
I guess I get what I deserve
Ye see I haven’t been so squeaky clean
And when it comes to my farewell
I’m anticipating, hanging with Satan
In the lobby bar in his hotel!
If I don’t make it to heaven there’s always hell
Old Lucifer don’t care if I behaved myself
I can drink and cheat and that would be just swell
If it get’s too hot, a little whiskey on the rocks should help
Since I was young, I always I’ve done
Things that might seem outta place
I robbed a bank dressed in drag
You should have seen the tellers face
I had whiskey for breakfast, pills for lunch
I got higher than the Empire State
I guess I strayed from the righteous way
I wasn’t just good at being bad, I was great!
If I don’t make it to heaven there’s always hell
It don’t matter a tick to Old Nick if I behaved myself
I could pick a fight with who I like, and won’t get expelled
If it get’s too hot, the vodka on the rocks should help
Now my days are spent, thinking how I went
From a boy to this mean man
No bible school could keep this old fool from the heathen I am
For Psalm’s and prayers I don’t much care
I’m a sinner and I’ll be damned!
So stuff salvation, the devil is waiting
I got me a reservation
If I don’t make it to heaven there’s always hell
Cuz Old Lucifer don’t care if I behave myself
We could blaspheme, be mean, get on real well
And if it gets too hot, the bourbon on the rocks should help
And if it gets too hot, a little whiskey on the rocks should help!
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
You Loaded The Dice (So I Loaded The Gun)
Kenny Strummit
You loaded the dice
So I loaded the gun
You cheated me boy
So I shot you down
At the poker game
You had an ace up your sleeve
But I carried hand
That you couldn’t beat
You loaded the dice
So I loaded the gun
You’ll fool me once boy
You won’t fool me again
You thought you’d be wise
But I guess ye never planned
That you’d lose your life
On a dead man’s hand
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
The Bovine Kid - Herbie Vore
I’m a lonely vegan cowboy riding on the range
I’m a hug-a-herd, steer-stroking dude
I’m just looking out for cows
Bulls that I can save.
I just don’t see my beefy friends as food
I’m a full-time rustler, freedom fighting for livestock
I’ve nicked every kind of bovine and cattle
I don’t get holidays, I work around the clock
Spared many’s a herd from Houston to Seattle
I don’t believe in barbecues, burgers, steaks or ribs
Cuz I’m the vegan cowboy
They call me the Bovine kid
I’m a lonely vegan cowboy
The canyon is my home
The burger joints have got me on the run
They’ve been trying track me down
Since I’ve been freeing cows
I just don’t wanna see them wind up in a bun
Cuz I don’t believe in barbecues, burgers, steaks or ribs
I’m the vegan cowboy
They call me the Bovine kid
Now no one knows who I am
I’m like a secret recipe
Another town, another cow goes free
I’ve given everything I have
To heifers, bulls, and cows and calves
I’ve fought the fight for bovine liberty
Cuz I don’t believe in barbecues, burgers, steaks or ribs
I’m the vegan cowboy
They call me the Bovine kid
I don’t believe in barbecues, burgers, steaks or ribs
Cuz I’m the vegan cowboy
They call me the Bovine kid
The Bovine Kid
|
||||
G D Sweeney London, UK
G D. Sweeney, a singer/songwriter and musician from Ireland who currently lives in London. His music is melodic and lyrically expressive. With a memorable simplicity, his songs depict personalities that you can’t fail to identify with. Guitar-driven, but inspired by his experience and love of the 5–string banjo - Gavin fuses Country, Folk and blues to craft his own roots music. ... more
If you like For Bling And Country - Songs From Episode 1, you may also like:
Father and daughter team up to make pretty folk music inspired by the day she was born and the day she'll leave home.
go to album
Sorry I'm So Sensitive
by Bea Stewart
The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 26, 2024
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Mar 19, 2024
go to album
Six and Forty-Six
by Riccardo La Foresta & James Ginzburg
Percussionist and sound artist Riccardo La Foresta joins musician and producer James Ginzburg for a fluid collaborative experiment.
go to album
The Room
by Fabiano do Nascimento & Sam Gendel
featured on Bandcamp Radio Jan 9, 2024
go to album
Stirring Americana set to acoustic arrangements and topped by the legendary Alice Gerrard’s lovely, world-wise voice.
go to album
