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.
.
.
