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Written by Sarah Beth Terry


2 wheels or four legs, he can ride it

If it’s offered out there somewhere

Bet he’s tried it

If he finds himself in love

He tries to hide it

So no one can ever tell

Raised up in the church but ain’t religious

Fearless to a fault but superstitious

And I’m convinced he lives with the intention

To blow the hinges off of hell

And when the winds announce the trumpet sounding

And everything is over but the shouting

He’s as much a part of this land as the mountains

So it’s probably just as well

If he don’t make it up to heaven

I know he’ll blow the hinges off of hell

Quick to defend his kin or a woman’s honor

Drinks his beer but don’t mind something stronger

Keeps running right on down to his last dollar

Then back to work he goes

Greets ya with a grin and “did you miss me?”

Hates being far from home here in this city

He’ll saddle up and take off like a Gypsy

And let the black smoke roll


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