Touchin' Pickles

Well I woke up this mornin',

sun shinin' bright,

Strolled to the kitchen 'bout quarter past nine,

Opened up the fridge

and what did I see?

A jar full of pickles just a-waitin' for me.

Mama said, “Boy,

what are you doin' in there?”

I said, “Nothin', Mama,

just mindin' my affairs.”

I'm touchin' pickles,

yeah, touchin' pickles,

Cold little spears in a mason jar,

I'm touchin' pickles,

yeah, touchin' pickles,

Don't ask me why,

just let me be where they are.

Dill on my fingers,

brine on my shirt,

Everybody's laughin' but it couldn't hurt,

I'm touchin' pickles, till the day I die,

With a jar in my hand and a twinkle in my eye.

I took one downtown,

took one to the bar,

Bartender looked at me like,

“Man, what you are?” I said,

“It's a country tradition,

don't question my ways,

Been touchin' these pickles since my younger days.” Some folks like whiskey,

some folks like beer,

Some folks chase dreams till the coast is near,

Me?

I've got a simple life,

and that's just fine—

A little bit of vinegar and a whole lotta brine.

I'm touchin' pickles,

yeah, touchin' pickles,

Livin' that life underneath the moon,

I'm touchin' pickles,

yeah, touchin' pickles,

Might be back for another jar real soon.

So raise up your jars,

let the good times roll,

Dill in your heart and a pickle in your soul,

I'm touchin' pickles,

sing it loud and proud— **AIN'T NO PICKLE TOO BRINY FOR THIS

COUNTRY CROWD!** (hahaha)

(pickles... mmm-hmm)