This tale ain’t wrong 🤠

Hot diggity! (Intro) “Now listen here,” I said that night, “This tale ain’t wrong — it just ain’t right.” He spat some dust, took a swig of rye, And winked like the devil with smoke in his eye. (Verse 1) I rode through town one burnin’ day, Horse half-dead, and debts to pay. The sheriff said, “Boy, you’re runnin’ late.” I said, “Ain’t time itself a twist of fate?” Then she walked in — that flinch from hell, Boots, red lips, and a silver bell. She said, “Hot damn, you look half dead.” I said, “Darlin’, that’s just whiskey in my head.” (Chorus) Yeehaw! I’m drinkin’ moonshine dry, Got dust in my teeth and stars in my eye. She said, “You’re lyin’, cowboy, no one rides that way.” I said, “Watch me, sugar — and hit the hay.” (Verse 2) “Mercy, mister!” she cried at dawn, When the saloon roof caved and the booze was gone. Cards flew high, the piano screamed, Hell, it felt like heaven in a fever dream. Then lightning struck my saddle bag, And out rolled gold from a preacher’s flag. She said, “Ain’t no man that lucky, son.” I said, “Darlin’, I never claimed to be one.” (Chorus) Yeehaw! I’m drinkin’ moonshine dry, Got ghosts in my glass and sin in my sigh. She said, “You ain’t real — you’re tall tale clay.” I said, “Could be, sweetheart — now hit the hay.” (Bridge) “Hot diggity!” she laughed so loud, The thunder roared, the sky bowed proud. I tipped my hat, said, “Here’s to fate — We’ll meet again past Heaven’s gate.” (Outro) So if you hear a fiddle under a ghost-white moon, And smell burnt rye in a barroom tune — That’s me and her, still ridin’ away, Drinkin’ that moonshine, hittin’ the hay. Yeehaw! ๒ץ: NΞЯOχMΞ 💯