Flatland Hillbillies - Rodney Crowell, Randy Rogers, Lee Ann Womack

We’re flatland hillbillies, Irish Cajun Creole mix

My brothers on an off shore rig, my sister’s on the pole at slicks

Mama takes in peoples washing, she was widowed by a pipeline man

We’re flatland hillbillies, getting by on what we can

We’re river rats and john boat shrimpers, trouble in our DNA

It wouldn’t be the same Port Arthur if we got up and moved away

God forbid we hit the lotto, chances are we’d wind up shot

We’re flatland hillbillies, getting by on what we’ve got

Flatland hillbillies heathen to the marrowbone

Working on your cars and drinking in your bars

And running every red-light home

If you’ve never ran a trot line, never skinned an eight point buck

Never had a squirrel-meat sandwich, then I guess you’re just out of luck

Living on the edge of nowhere, isn’t for the feint of heart

We’re flatland hillbillies, waiting on the fire to start

Flatland hillbillies, another other breed apart