Flynnville Train
Red Nekkid
They moved on down from Boston town,
and bought the old Johnson farm.
They was trying like sin to fit right in,
never intended nobody no harm.
Wes wore a "gimme" cap, with winter ear flaps
and sported bib overalls.
Course, the fresh cow pie on his raw silk tie,
really didn't quite work at all.
(CHORUS)
He wanted to be....red-nekkid,
just like the rest of us.
He wanted to be....red-nekkid,
He even started to cuss.
He tried to chew and spit,
but he just turned green,
left his snuff in his pocket
through the washing machine
He wants to be....red-nekkid,
just one of the good ol' boys.
Then one summer day, he was mowin' hay
riding his tractor, and dreamin'.
The breeze felt ok, but the warm sun's rays
would feel better against bare skin.
Took off all of his clothes, left em 'tween the rows;
Letras de cancionesclimbed back up in his tractor seat.
Recommenced to mowing, had no way of knowin'
his wife was bringin' someone to meet.
(CHORUS)
He wanted to be....red-nekkid,
just like the rest of us.
He wanted to be....red-nekkid.
He even started to cuss.
He tried to chew and spit,
but he just turned green,
left his snuff in his pocket
through the washing machine
He wants to be....red-nekkid,
just one of the good ol' boys.
She walked right slow, with the preacher in tow
as they crossed that new mown field.
The baling machine kept a lot unseen
until they got to the tractor wheels.
Wes was cherry pink and startin' to think
about where he had left his clothes.
His wife screamed, "Wes!", the preacher just guessed
about what, only heaven knows.
(CHORUS/END)
He was caught....red-nekkid,
just like the rest of us.
He was now....red-nekkid.
He even started to cuss.
He tried to chew and spit,
but he just turned green,
left his snuff in his pocket
through the washing machine
He's just....red-nekkid,
like the rest of the good ol' boys.
(TAG)
I'm most sorry 'bout this parson. Please know I mean it true.
But I harbor no secrets from the Lord;
nor, anymore, it seems from you.
From Letras Mania