(Verse 1) Well I kicked off my boots on a Saturday night, Bartender laughed when he seen the sight. Said, “Boy, what’s that peekin’ outta your sole?” I said, “These are blessed by the good Lord’s roll.” (Pre-Chorus) They been through the mud, they been through the rain, They been through the whiskey, they been through the pain. You can call it trash, but to me it’s gold— Every rip and tear is a story told. (Chorus) Raise your glass up high, let the jukebox roll, Sing about my socks with the worn-out holes. Ain’t no shame in a holy heel, It’s the badge of a man who’s keepin’ it real. Stomp your boots, boys, clap your hands, These ragged ol’ socks been across this land. Yeah, praise the holy heel, my sock’s got holes, But it carried this heart and it carried this soul. (Verse 2) Mama said, “Son, you need a new pair,” But I love these socks ‘cause they’ve been everywhere. Through the bars, through the barns, through the backwoods fights, Through a thousand bad choices and a million long nights. (Pre-Chorus) You can buy your fancy brands off the rack, But my holey socks keep me comin’ back. Every stitch is a hymn, every hole’s a prayer, That the Lord won’t judge what I choose to wear. (Chorus) Raise your glass up high, let the jukebox roll, Sing about my socks with the worn-out holes. Ain’t no shame in a holy heel, It’s the badge of a man who’s keepin’ it real. Stomp your boots, boys, clap your hands, These ragged ol’ socks been across this land. Yeah, praise the holy heel, my sock’s got holes, But it carried this heart and it carried this soul. (Bridge – Spoken/Rowdy) Now some folks pray on Sunday morn, I just pray my socks stay warm. Don’t need no Bible, don’t need no robes— I got salvation in my cotton toes! (Breakdown – Crowd Chant) Holy heel! (Holy heel!) Sock’s got holes! (Sock’s got holes!) Whiskey spills and the good times roll, Sing it loud, boys, let the story be told! (Final Chorus) Raise your glass up high, let the jukebox roll, Sing about my socks with the worn-out holes. Ain’t no shame in a holy heel, It’s the badge of a man who’s keepin’ it real. Stomp your boots, boys, clap your hands, These ragged ol’ socks been across this land. Yeah, praise the holy heel, my sock’s got holes, But it carried this heart and it carried this soul. (Outro) So when I get to Heaven, I’ll be standin’ proud, With a holey sock choir singin’ loud. Me and St. Peter’ll kick up some dust, Singin’ “In worn-out socks we trust!”
