Satire of country music Saturday night/Sunday morning songs

Note: This is a satire.

Play Hard, Pray Harder

©2010 Trailer satires

Saturday night I get my truck waxed up

Head down to the bar and drink a cup

And do some lines of coke

Came in with my girl but left with my ex

Had some public unprotected sex

Gave her clap but she don't know

Chorus

I play hard, so I pray harder

Sunday mornin' I ask the Father

To forgive me of my sins

Then I go and do it again

Yeah, I play hard, so I pray harder

Sunday mornin' in the Baptist church

Track marks achin' and my head it hurts

Singing Amazing Grace

Thinkin' 'bout fightin' the night before

I hope the cops don't find the corpse

But the Lord says it's okay

I play hard, so I pray harder

Sunday mornin' I ask the Father

To forgive this sinner's soul

For smokin' a big fat bowl

Yeah, I play hard, so I pray harder

Bridge

I love Jesus and the US of A

You know what I mean?

But I like gun runnin' and gettin' laid

So thank God I'm redeemed

I play hard, so I pray harder

Sunday mornin' I ask the Father

To forgive my dirty deeds

My arson, lust and greed

Yeah, I play hard, so I pray harder

A satirical country lyric

If You Say I'm Not a Country Boy

If you say I'm not a country boy

I'll show you that's a lie

I'll crank my truck and shoot a duck

And spit Beechnut in your eye

If you say I'm not a country boy

You 'bout to learn the facts

I'll play some Hank and drink a drank

And wear jeans that show my crack

Chorus

So don't you go and disrespect

Homie I'll put your *ss in check

Ride up in my one-five-oh

Leave you bleeding on the flo'

Singin' "Oh you didn't know?"

If you say I'm not a country boy

Better own a graveyard plot

I'm country bred, my neck is red

And I'll leave yo wangsta' ass shot

(Repeat Chorus)

Bridge

Never mind these hip-hop beats

And these urban dictionary words

Cause I'm country as Strait

Got a Nascar plate

And I can whistle dixie, ya' heard?

So, think twice before you disrespect

Hater, you best come correct

Ride up in my one-five-oh

Leave you bleeding on the flo'

Singin' "Oh you didn't know?"

Tag:

If you say I'm not a country boy

Say I'm not, b*tch!

Oh no you dih–int!!

©2010 Corey Parkman

Redneck Resolutions

Redneck Resolutions

Done made it through another twelve

Still sane and in one piece

Only spent a month in jail

Been good since I's released

But this year as the fireworks fly

i feel a little strange

And it ain't just this Miller Lite

Naw, it's time i made some change

Chorus

Next year I won't drink Jim Beam ...on the way to church

And I guess I'll quit dippin' ...this tumor reallly hurts

Won't git rough with my woman ...unless she hits me first

Come on new year, big boy, do your worst

Almost got the trailer paid off

And the boy's bout done with school

Plan for his future like I ought

I'll buy him a set of tools

Gonna be nicer to my ex wife

I'll tone it down to "witch"

And if I go road hunting at night

I'll at least park in the ditch

Chorus

And next year I won't drink Old Crow ...till i get off of work

I reckon I'll quit smokin' ...my lungs feel like they'll burst

Won't cuss loud at the Walmart ...and I'll stop stealin' Certs

Come on new year, big boy, do your worst

Bridge

Raise up your tall boys, here's to the future

These are my redneck resolutions

Next year I won't drink so much ...on the way to church

And I guess I'll quit dippin' ...this tumor reallly hurts

Won't git rough with my woman ...unless she hits me first

Come on new year, big boy, do your worst

Come on twenty-ten, do your worst

©2009 Corey Parkman

Happy Non-Specific Winter Holiday

An original satirical lyric from FTM.

Happy Non-Specific Winter Holiday

It’s that festive time of year again

Kwanzaa, the birth observance and other events

Shopping facilities are challenged for space

There’s an upturned expression on many a face

Hang out red ceremonial footwear

The kinara or menorahs with peace and care

Light the candles or holiday tree

Here’s a hopeful salutation to you from me

Have a happy non-specific winter holiday

Hear the appropriate musical selections play

Observe your chosen rituals

Be kind to all individuals

Have a happy non-specific winter holiday

Please be sensitive to everyone

Jewish or Christian or those of no religion

Make certain to be careful with your words

Disharmonic greetings can cause other persons hurt

If you choose to give gifts, please be kind

No red or green wrappings, they exclude the colorblind

If you wish to spread tidings of unity

Be sure to offer this ode to each person you see

Have a happy non-specific winter holiday

Hear the appropriate musical selections play

Observe your chosen rituals

Be kind to all individuals

Have a happy non-specific winter holiday

Bridge

Well, the tofurkey’s almost ready

And the organic dressing is too

My lifestyle family unit

Offers this formal wish to you

Have a happy non-specific winter holiday

Hear the appropriate musical selections play

Practice your preferred methods

Of celebratory acceptance

Have a happy non-specific winter holiday

©2004 Corey Parkman

She's Countrier: A Satire

This is a send-up of all the "my woman is a real country gal" songs... (She's Country in particular)

She's Countrier

v1

She was breach born in a Silverado

Raised in shed in a backwoods hollow

Fed cold collards, cheese and pimento

Smelling pig crap every time the wind blows

Lift

Yeah, we're from the same bloodline

But the reason that she's mine

Chorus

She's countrier

Than a muddy ol' fat sow

She's countrier

The girl can work a plow

You wanna see cornfed, better come see her

Your girl might be country but she's countrier

v2

She drinks moonshine like its faucet water

Wears cutoffs to church, no she shouldn't oughtta

She yells "Yeehaw!" everytime she sneezes

Got a rebel flag tatt right next to Jesus

Lift

That's right, the girl's got class

Can get a coon treed real fast

Chorus

She's countrier

Than a poison ivy rash

She's countrier

Name on every overpass

You wanna see a yokel, better come meet her

You might know some country but she's countrier

Bridge

She loves America and Camel cigarettes

All three of the Hanks and cooking up meth

She's countrier

Than ol' David Alan Coe

She's countrier

Than a homemade garden hoe

You gotta hike through kudzu to come see her

You've been to the country but she's countrier

The Pirate Song

In honor of Talk Like a Pirate Day:

Get this widget | Track details | eSnips Social DNA

©Bret Bingham/Corey Parkman

Drunk old men in bars = our greatest philosophers?

This is a satirical lyrical take on all the "old man/drunk old man in a bar imparts great knowledge upon a young man having love troubles" songs. I'm looking at you "People are Crazy."

What the Old Man Said

Was on the outs with my lady
So I checked myself into a bar
Ordered up a seven and seven
Set fire to a Cuban cigar
Old drunk struck up conversation
Asked "What are you here to forget?"
So I told him of all my problems
And this is what the old man said

These days I wear diapers
Cause I can't hold it in
Spongebob is my hero
Sweet taters make me grin
Women, they's all bitches
Now Jack Daniels is my girl
I believe in UFO's
Oh, think I'm gonna hurl

I pondered on his thoughtful words
Smiled at the wisdom therein
Ordered up a seven and seven
For my philosophical friend
He talked the new world order
And how he wished his name was Ted
Then I noticed a tear in his eye
And this is what the old man said

I like to play Atari
Global cooling is a scam
Yes I wear a Speedo
When I slice deviled ham
Jack Ingram is my savior
Could you scoot your stool up close?
Penis rhymes with Venus
Would you butter my rye toast?

Bridge
I never saw that old man again
Till the day I heard he was dead
He'd left me a note, some nugget he wrote
And this is what the old man said

"Bye"

©2009 Corey Parkman

The truth about hometowns

So many songs these days extoll the simple pleasures of that quaint lil' idyllic hometown we all come from and long to go back to if we have a soul at all. It's where the the dirt road simple life makes everything okay, where folks wet a line at the crawfish hole, where Saturday night's sin must be prayed about at Sunday morning's service, where the cancer-stricken brother wants to leave this mortal coil, it's a little slice of heaven on earth. Really? Really? Here's the truth. 

My Hometown Sucks

Went back to visit for a few days

Where I’m from, smalltown USA

I pulled in as that big ol’ warm sun fell

Felt a feeling coming over me

Not quite sentimentality

My stomach turned from that old familiar smell

My hometown sucks

My hometown sucks

I miss it like I love a kick in the nuts

My hometown sucks

My hometown sucks

It's a charming mix of hicks in trucks

So much for nostalgia

I don’t know about ya

But my hometown sucks

Every corner you can cash a check

The potholed streets will make you wreck

And Walmart's the only store that's left in town

The kids cook meth on Saturday nights

The quickstop just sells Natty Light

And the homecoming queen, she weighs three hundred pounds

My hometown sucks

My hometown sucks

Drive down mainstreet, you might get mugged

My hometown sucks

My hometown sucks

If you say hoedown, the girls all duck

So much for nostalgia

I don’t know about ya

But my hometown sucks

Bridge

Sure the pace of life is slower

But so is the pace of mind

It's no wonder we always used to drink ourselves blind

Cause my hometown sucks

My hometown sucks

The mayor's a lush, the council's corrupt

My hometown sucks

My hometown sucks

It's a charming mix of hicks in trucks

So much for nostalgia

I don’t know about ya

But my hometown sucks

©2009 Corey Parkman

(for the record, my hometown actually holds a nice place in my memory and is a lovely locale with all the  bingo hall fights and check cashing establishments you could ever ask for)

Chuck Wicks Exclusive!

An anonymous source sent me the lyrics for the lead single on Chuck Wicks' second album, due in November. Enjoy!

TMB
©2009 (not actually written by) Jimmy Wayne and Jay DeMarcus

v1
I was so lost
Until you came until my world
The waves, they tossed
Until you quieted the storm, girl
I was a fool
But then again I'm just a man
This is for you
So put out your sweet little hand

Chorus
Here, take my balls
I don't need 'em anymore
Wrap them in silk and keep 'em in your dresser drawer
You saved my life
So it's the least that I can do
Yeah, take my balls and I'll always sing this sweet for you

v2
I'll rub your feet
Unless you want me to fold clothes
Tell me your dreams
I'll flush mine down the commode
Girl, listen here
I'm done with sports and cigarettes
No drinkin' beer
Let's just hold hands, cause who needs sex?

(Repeat Chorus)

Bridge
Your love is the greatest thing I have ever known
Steal away my heart and my testosterone

Oh take my balls
I don't need 'em anymore
No baby, I don't want to know the Dallas Cowboys score
You are my life
So I'll watch Lifetime shows with you
Yeah, take my balls and sure, I'd love to have more tofu

The Name Dropping Song

Cashed My Paycheck (The Name Dropping Song)

I cashed my Paycheck for a few measly Bucks
Drove down to Miller's in my Red Ford truck
Feelin' Tucker-ed out, Haggard to the bone
I had a Hank'rin' for some ol' Daniels Black
Said Parton me, wontcha please fill'er up, Mac
I was in-Cline-d to satisfy my Jones

Chorus
Cashed in my Paycheck
to spend some Jacksons Tilli(t)s light
Cashed in my Paycheck
and went Waylon Friday night

Stewed to the Gill-s, I wasn't feelin' too Wells
Ol' Webb called me a Patsy, I said "Coe to hell"
Then I felt Bare knuckles Strait 'side my head
He hurt my Pride so I had to Yoakam fast
Ain't as Young as I was, but I Toby'd his ass
Flatt on his back, I sipped Lonestar as he bled

Cashed in my Paycheck
to spend some Jacksons Tillis light
Cashed in my Paycheck
and went Waylon Friday night

Bridge
Cops were on the way, Willie offered a ride
But first I had to tell some friends goodbye
Bye Joe and Martina, So long Brooks and Lynn
Bye Ray, bye Reba, see ya later Tim

(Repeat Chorus)

©2007 Corey Parkman

Britches and Hoes

As a companion piece to one of the t-shirt slogans I posted yesterday, this is a silly hick-hop? ditty I wrote the lyrics for and my buddy Bret Bingham wrote the music for and performed on. Eat your heart out, Cowboy Troy. Despite the title, this contains no foul language.

Countrier Than Thou

Here's a satirical song lyric I wrote a couple of years ago during a particularly overdone round of "country pride" songs on the Nashville charts... Now, with seemingly dozens more country pride songs on the charts and iTunes, as bemoaned on many replies to Country California's recent Questionnaire, it's as timely as ever.

Countrier Than Thou

Backwoods anthems on the radio
Every neck's redder than the one befo'
It's all Skynyrd and pickup trucks
Drinkin, fishin and patriotism
Well boys, if this thing's a competition
I reckon ya'll should just give up

Chorus
Cause I'm countrier than thou, so much countrier than thou
I was born with a plug of Redman in my mouth
Pledge allegiance to the flag, but salute the South
You gotta turn off the rural route to find my house
I'm that much countrier than thou

Raised by my mama in an old deer stand
Built my own pickup with my two bare hands
Wear a cap and a cowboy hat
I'd fight any man but Jesus Christ
Been shot three times and born again twice
I'd like to hear ya'll top that

Hell, I'm countrier than thou, so much countrier than thou
We got a gravel road for Main Street in my hometown
Pledge allegiance to the flag, but salute the South
You gotta turn off the rural route to find my house
I'm that much countrier than thou

Bridge
Tractor, skinny dipping, beer and prison
Kiss my ass if there's anything missin'
Ain't nobody by-God country as me
So don't you never doubt my authenticity

Cause I'm countrier than thou, so much countrier than thou
I learned to drive after I learned to plow
Love to turn Cash, Jones, Cline, Strait, Alan, Hank, Hank Jr., Pride, Conway, Willie and Waylon, Merle and Loretta up real loud
You gotta pull off the rural route to find my house
I'm that much countrier than thou

Spoken tag:
I forget anything? Coe, I love me some Coe! And Skoal!


©2007 Corey Parkman

What Xmas is All About

What Xmas is All About

Neighbor was in his yard one December morn
Arranging some little dolls and a toy barn
Said it was something called a nativity scene
I just shook my head, decided to be nice
And offered him some neighborly advice
"Friend, don't you know what Christmas really means?"

Chorus
Man, it's icicle lights and inflatable elves
Hickory Farms and half price sales
And Shriners riding go-carts at the big parade downtown
It's an eggnog buzz at the office shindig
It's Rudolph, Santa and pudding figs
Just helpin' out, now you know what Christmas is all about

He just stared at me like my nose was on fire
Looked at my big sleigh suspended by wires
Asked me "Ain't you ever heard of the virgin birth?"
Said "If I want a sermon, I'll go to church"
He said "That's the reason we celebrate"
I had to laugh, but then I set him straight

Chorus 2
Cause It's a Wonderful Life and that mean ol' Grinch
It's my pants size going up an inch
It's window flocking, Christmas tree rocking and huge Walmart crowds
It's fruit cake, cookies and big shiny balls
It's getting drunk to put up with inlaws
Man get a clue, now you know what Christmas is all about

Bridge
He said "Merry Christmas" and walked away
Stuck some little baby down in the hay
He'll never learn...

That it's icicle lights and inflatable elves
Overstock dot com and half price sales
It's Santa on the firetruck at the big parade downtown
It's an eggnog buzz at the office shindig
It's Rudolph, Frosty and pudding figs
He just doesn't understand what Christmas is all about

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sat⋅ire
   /ˈsætaɪər/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [sat-ahyuhr] Show IPA Pronunciation
–noun
1. the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc.
2. a literary composition, in verse or prose, in which human folly and vice are held up to scorn, derision, or ridicule.

Copyright info for this lyric on this thread: http://tunesmith.net/forums/showthread.php?t=7336