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Track: Ballad Of A Southern Man
Artist: Whiskey Myers
Album: Firewater

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Name: Whiskey Myers
Spotify Genres: red dirt, texas country, southern rock, outlaw country, country, country rock
Followers: 1,047,970
Popularity:

70/100

Biography

Whiskey Myers are an American Southern Rock/Red Dirt/Country group from Palestine, Texas composed of Cody Cannon (lead vocals and acoustic guitar), Cody Tate (lead and rhythm guitar), John Jeffers (lead and rhythm guitar, backing vocals), Jeff Hogg (drums) and Gary Brown (bass). The band started when friends Cody Cannon and Cody Tate began playing guitar together, inspired by the music of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Hank Williams Jr., Waylon Jennings, and many other southern rock and country artists. After being joined by friend John Jeffers, they began calling themselves Lucky Southern. After playing together for a while, the three decided to start a more serious band. They enlisted friend Jeff Hogg to play drums, and asked Cannon's cousin Gary Brown to play bass. They began playing shows around their hometown and native state of Texas.

Source: Discogs

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Release: Whiskey Myers - Firewater
Year: N/A
Genres: Rock, Blues, Folk, World, & Country
Styles: Southern Rock

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LYRICS

My first rifle was a .243,
Papa gave Daddy and Daddy gave to me,
and they taught me how to shoot with a steady hand,
I guess that's something you don't understand.
Now I grew up on a prison farm,
sneaking pulls of shine from a mason jar,
used to go fishing out pickle creek dam,
but I guess that's something you don't understand.

Grandmas in the kitchen;
Papas drunk past dawn;
We sit out on the front porch,
Just a pickin' on the songs;
and there's blood on the table,
cause we work for what we have;
and I was raised in this land,
I guess that's something you don't understand.

I still fly that southern flag,
whistling Dixieland enough to brag,
and I know all the words to simple man,
I guess that's something you don't understand.

I pledge my allegiance the original way,
say Merry Christmas not happy holidays,
I can't change my ways I know who I am,
I guess that's something you don't understand.

Grandmas in the kitchen;
Papas drunk past dawn;
we sit out on the front porch,
just a pickin' on the songs;
and there's blood on the table,
cause we work for what we have;
and I was raised in this land,
I guess that's something you don't understand.

A pile of soap and a big machine;
I'll feed us all on the same beliefs,
Holy dollar and a credit card;
but we got a way of doing things,
and no bankers gonna steal from me;
they wanna tear it all apart.

Grandmas in the kitchen;
Papas done past on;
we sit out on the front porch,
just a pickin' on the songs;
and there's a bible on the table,
cause he bleed for what we have,
and that's the ballad of a southern man,
I guess that's something you don't understand.

My first rifle was a .243,
Papa gave Daddy and Daddy gave to me.