The country feels like home

There’s a shotgun house on a two-lane road,

With a rusty tin roof and an old wood stove.

A John Deere tractor sitting in the grass,

And a screen door slamming when the neighbors pass.

Got a coon dog sleeping by the porch out back,

And a couple of old rods in a gunny sack.

Daddy’s in the barn with his radio on,

Playing Merle Haggard till the daylight’s gone.

Ain’t nothing like the country,

ain’t nothing quite the same,

As a little gravel road and a good old family name.

With a truck that runs rough and a creek that runs deep,

And a front porch chair where an old man sleeps.

Let the city folks have their tall buildings and lights,

Give me a Southern sunset on a Saturday night.

I was born in the pines,

and wherever I roam,

Ain’t nothing like the country,

and the country feels like home.

Come November morning, ‘fore the rooster crows,

There’s a little white frost where the deer trails go.

Pull on my boots,

grab a thermos of coffee,

Head out through the pines where the world can’t stop me.

Then come sundown, I’ll be back in town,

With a little red clay on my hunting coat brown.

Mama’s got supper and the table’s set,

Those are the kind of days I ain’t forgotten yet.

Ain’t nothing like the country,

ain’t nothing quite the same,

As a little gravel road and a good old family name.

With a truck that runs rough and a creek that runs deep,

And a front porch chair where an old man sleeps.

Let the city folks have their tall buildings and lights,

Give me a Southern sunset on a Saturday night.

I was born in the pines,

and wherever I roam,

Ain’t nothing like the country,

and the country feels like home.

Friday night football, the whole town’s there,

Old boys leaning on the fence in their folding chairs.

The marching band plays while the hometown scores,

And you can hear folks cheering from the grocery store.

After the game, take the long way back,

With a country song playing on an old eight-track.

There’s a full moon shining on the telephone wire,

And the stars come out like a church choir.

Someday these boots will be worn right through,

And I’ll have more gray than a morning sky blue.

But if I get one wish when my days are done,

Let me watch one more sunset over South Carolina.

Ain’t nothing like the country,

ain’t nothing quite the same,

There’s a little bit of heaven in a small-town name.

With a truck that runs rough and a creek that runs deep,

And a whole lot of memories a man gets to keep.

Let the city folks have their tall buildings and lights,

Give me those Carolina stars on a clear summer night.

I was born in the pines,

and wherever I roam,

Ain’t nothing like the country,

’cause the country is home.

Yeah, the road might bend,

and the years might fly,

But these Carolina roots run deep inside.

You can travel this world,

see all there is to see,

But there’s nowhere on God’s green earth That’s quite like home

to me.