It’s a Sunday morning

[guitar intro] [verse] It’s a Sunday morning And the acres are green I’m just shooting for par While playin 18 The bogeys start falling My mind starts goin The only thing to get me right Is a cold beer flowin [chorus] With an Iron in my hand A Beer in the other Tryna hit the fairway But I’m always in trouble [verse] My cart ain’t running And my tees run dry My towels too wet I got sunscreen in my eye My drives are going left My putters going right And I’ve run out of beer Before the back nine [chorus] With an Iron in my hand A Beer in the other Tryna hit the fairway But I’m always in trouble [verse] My round is over 18 birdies got my score Thought to play again But I can’t take it anymore Newter’s all lit up And he’s ready for me [chorus] With an Iron in my hand A Beer in the other Tryna hit the fairway But I’m always in trouble [outro] Trucks are all packed We get in car But we ain’t headin home We’re headed for the bar