Boots On The Sawdust Floor

90s country, honky tonk, two-step country

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V5.5

[Intro]

(Fast fiddle lick kicks off the track. Telecaster answers with a sharp twang riff. Drums lock into a two-step shuffle while the piano rolls underneath.)

⸻

[Verse 1]

Clock hit five on a Friday evening,
Boss man said, “Y’all head on home,”
I had dust on my shirt and grease on my hands,
And a paycheck burning a hole.

Washed my face in a gas station mirror,
Put a little shine on my old belt buckle,
There’s a dancehall calling my name tonight,
And my pickup’s ready to rumble.

Neon’s glowing down on Main Street,
Band’s already warming up loud,
By the time I hit that front door swinging,
I’m gonna disappear in the crowd.

⸻

[Pre-Chorus]

Ain’t looking for trouble,
Ain’t looking for much,
Just a cold beer waiting
And a two-step touch.

⸻

[Chorus]

I got boots on the sawdust floor,
A fiddle burning through a hardwood door,
Cold beer sweating in my right hand,
Left arm wrapped around a dancehall queen.

Spin her once, pull her back in,
Let that steel guitar cry again,
Friday night’s what I was working for,
With my boots on the sawdust floor.

⸻

[Verse 2]

There’s old men laughing by the jukebox,
Young bucks talking too big,
Somebody’s mama in rhinestone earrings
Teaching a cowboy how to swing.

The bartender knows everybody’s story,
But he don’t tell what he’s been told,
This place has seen more broken hearts
Than a Bible’s got pages of gold.

Then she walked in like a Texas sunset,
Hair down, smile turned loose,
She said, “Boy, can you handle a two-step?”
I said, “Ma’am, I was born in these boots.”

⸻

[Pre-Chorus]

She grabbed my hand laughing,
Band kicked in hard,
We lit up that dance floor
Like a match in the dark.

⸻

[Chorus]

I got boots on the sawdust floor,
A fiddle burning through a hardwood door,
Cold beer sweating in my right hand,
Left arm wrapped around a dancehall queen.

Spin her once, pull her back in,
Let that steel guitar cry again,
Friday night’s what I was working for,
With my boots on the sawdust floor.

⸻

[Instrumental Break]

(Fiddle takes the lead with a fast dancehall run. Telecaster jumps in with chicken-pickin’ licks. Honky-tonk piano pounds out a barroom solo while the drums keep the floor moving.)

⸻

[Bridge]

Monday morning’s coming,
But it ain’t welcome here,
We’ll chase it out the window
With another round of beer.

Life gets heavy,
Work gets sore,
But freedom sounds better
On a sawdust floor.

⸻

[Final Chorus]

I got boots on the sawdust floor,
A fiddle burning through a hardwood door,
Cold beer sweating in my right hand,
Left arm wrapped around a dancehall queen.

Spin her once, pull her back in,
Let that steel guitar cry again,
Friday night’s what I was working for,
With my boots on the sawdust floor.

Yeah, Friday night’s what I was working for,
With my boots on the sawdust floor.

⸻

[Outro]

(Band rides out with fiddle and Telecaster trading hot licks. Crowd claps along. Final hit lands hard with a pedal steel slide and piano flourish.)

2937/7500

[Intro] (Fast fiddle lick kicks off the track. Telecaster answers with a sharp twang riff. Drums lock into a two-step shuffle while the piano rolls underneath.) ⸻ [Verse 1] Clock hit five on a Friday evening, Boss man said, “Y’all head on home,” I had dust on my shirt and grease on my hands, And a paycheck burning a hole. Washed my face in a gas station mirror, Put a little shine on my old belt buckle, There’s a dancehall calling my name tonight, And my pickup’s ready to rumble. Neon’s glowing down on Main Street, Band’s already warming up loud, By the time I hit that front door swinging, I’m gonna disappear in the crowd. ⸻ [Pre-Chorus] Ain’t looking for trouble, Ain’t looking for much, Just a cold beer waiting And a two-step touch. ⸻ [Chorus] I got boots on the sawdust floor, A fiddle burning through a hardwood door, Cold beer sweating in my right hand, Left arm wrapped around a dancehall queen. Spin her once, pull her back in, Let that steel guitar cry again, Friday night’s what I was working for, With my boots on the sawdust floor. ⸻ [Verse 2] There’s old men laughing by the jukebox, Young bucks talking too big, Somebody’s mama in rhinestone earrings Teaching a cowboy how to swing. The bartender knows everybody’s story, But he don’t tell what he’s been told, This place has seen more broken hearts Than a Bible’s got pages of gold. Then she walked in like a Texas sunset, Hair down, smile turned loose, She said, “Boy, can you handle a two-step?” I said, “Ma’am, I was born in these boots.” ⸻ [Pre-Chorus] She grabbed my hand laughing, Band kicked in hard, We lit up that dance floor Like a match in the dark. ⸻ [Chorus] I got boots on the sawdust floor, A fiddle burning through a hardwood door, Cold beer sweating in my right hand, Left arm wrapped around a dancehall queen. Spin her once, pull her back in, Let that steel guitar cry again, Friday night’s what I was working for, With my boots on the sawdust floor. ⸻ [Instrumental Break] (Fiddle takes the lead with a fast dancehall run. Telecaster jumps in with chicken-pickin’ licks. Honky-tonk piano pounds out a barroom solo while the drums keep the floor moving.) ⸻ [Bridge] Monday morning’s coming, But it ain’t welcome here, We’ll chase it out the window With another round of beer. Life gets heavy, Work gets sore, But freedom sounds better On a sawdust floor. ⸻ [Final Chorus] I got boots on the sawdust floor, A fiddle burning through a hardwood door, Cold beer sweating in my right hand, Left arm wrapped around a dancehall queen. Spin her once, pull her back in, Let that steel guitar cry again, Friday night’s what I was working for, With my boots on the sawdust floor. Yeah, Friday night’s what I was working for, With my boots on the sawdust floor. ⸻ [Outro] (Band rides out with fiddle and Telecaster trading hot licks. Crowd claps along. Final hit lands hard with a pedal steel slide and piano flourish.)

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