Here's the Old Redneck himself. Notice the cap says RIGID but I wrote Sometimes under it. The women give me a double take and shake their head looking at me with pitiful eyes. Sad they can't take a joke.
On the bright side, though, - I think - I am trying to grow my first beard. I look more like a wino than a studly man about the briar patch right now. But give it some time and I will be beating the women off with my Louisville Slugger (like Hell I will.)
Speaking of studly, I present for your Monday Redneck a poem of true love and devotion. So powerful that I know there will be panty-puddin all over the country. Steady girls. You'll be alright before you know it.
Collards is green, My dog’s name is Blue, And I’m so lucky To have a sweet thang like you.
Yore hair is like con silk A-flapping in the breeze. Softer than Blue’s And without all them fleas.
You move like the bass Which excite me in May? You ain’t got no scales But I luv you anyway.
Yo’re as satisfy’n as okry Just a-fry’n in the pan. Yo’re as fragrant as “snuff” Right out of the can.
You have some’a yore teeth, For which I am proud: I hold my head high When we’re in a crowd.
On special occasions, When you shave under yore arms, Well, I’m in hawg heaven, And awed by yore charms.
Still them fellers at work, They all want to know, What I did to deserve Such a purdy, young doe.
Like a good roll of duct tape Yo’re there fer yore man, To patch up life’s troubles And fiux what you can.
Yo’re as cute as a junebug a-buzzin’ overhead. You ain’t mean like those fire ants I found in my bed.
Your cut from the best cloth Like a plaid flannel shirt, You park up my life More than a fresh load of dirt.
When you hold me real tight Like a padded gunrack, My life is complete; Ain’t nuttin’ I lack.
Yore complexion, it’s perfection, Like the best vinyl sidin’ Despite all the years, Yore age, it keeps hidin’.
Me ‘n’ you’s like a Moon Pie With a RC cold drank, We go together Like a skunk goes with stank.
Some men, they buy chocolate For Valentine’s Day; They git it at Wal-Mart, It’s romantic that way.
Some men git roses On that special day From the cooler at Kroger. “That’s impressive,” I say.
Some men buy fine diamonds From a flea market booth. “Diamonds are forever,” They explain, suave and couth.
But for this man, honey, These won’t do. Cause yor’e too special, You sweet thang you.
I got you a gift, Without taste or oder, More useful than diamonds… IT’S A NEW TROLL’N MOTER!
Now, wipe those tears, girls. I know your man loves you just as much, too. . .