I may look like a city slicker, shining up through his shoes.

Underneath, I'm just a cotton picker, picking out a mess of blues.

Show me where I start,

find a horse and cart.

I'm just a country boy, country boy at heart.

I may look like a bank teller, pushing facts in a file.

But I'd rather be a hog caller, chewing cud on a sty.

Show me where I start,

find a horse and cart.

I'm just a country boy, country boy at heart.

I may look like a city slicker, shining up through his shoes.

Underneath I'm just a cotton picker, picking out a mess of blues.

Show me where I start,

find a horse and cart.

I'm just a country boy, country boy at heart.