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)