Pure Country

There's that 94, red Ford, beauty with a four-by-four Fully restored, pulling into my lane George Strait, Shania Twain Shaking up the window panes 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 Pure country She's a 60-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 (Oh yeah she is) (Honey, let me take them boots off for ya) (Fixed you supper) (Oh c'mon)