PARTY AT THE CREIK An Upbeat Country Party Anthem [Intro – Spoken over banjo and electric guitar] Well, fire up the trucks, boys! Tell your cousin, tell your sister, tell your sister's cousin twice removed! We got moonshine in the jug and a pig on the grill! Y'all know where to go — it's PARTY TIME AT THE CREIK! [Verse 1] Got a rusty old Chevy and a lifted-up Ford, Cooler full of Bud and a homemade fishing rod, Camo on the ladies, mud up to our knees, And Uncle Bubba's dancing like a possum in the trees! There's a Baptist in the bass boat, a cowboy on the bank, A redneck with a mullet and a tank full of gas, A hillbilly on the banjo, a good ol' boy on drums, And a barefoot hillbilly yelling, "Here comes the fun!" [Pre-Chorus] Got the country boys, the country girls, The backwoods kings and the trailer park pearls, The farmers, the hunters, the moonshine crew, And a whole lot of folks with nothing better to do! [Chorus] It's a PARTY AT THE CREIK, y'all, Raise your cans up high! Got the rednecks, hillbillies, cowboys And the cousins rolling by! Got the swamp folk, the hayseeds, The good ol' boys in boots, The duck hunters, mud runners, And the folks who ain't got two good roots! We're splashing in the water, Got the speakers on repeat, If you ain't covered head to toe in mud, You ain't partying with me! It's a PARTY AT THE CREIK! Yeah, a PARTY AT THE CREIK! Where the banjos play till Sunday And the whole damn county's weak! [Verse 2] There's a swamp yankee from the bayou with a gator on a chain, A moonshiner from the holler who's forgotten his own name, A rodeo cowboy wearing spurs he bought online, And a farmer drinking sweet tea from a Mason jar of wine! There's a trailer park queen with a rhinestone crown, A duck-call champion who's the loudest guy in town, A NASCAR fanatic with a number on his shirt, And a barefoot mama doing line dances in the dirt! The hunters brought their deer stands, the fishermen their bait, The survivalist brought canned beans in case we stay out late, The swamp buggies are a-rumbling, the bonfire's burning bright, And somebody's grandpa just challenged a raccoon to fight! [Pre-Chorus] Got the cowboys, the rednecks, The farmers and the freaks, The backwoods boys from seven counties All are headed to the creek! [Chorus] It's a PARTY AT THE CREIK, y'all, Raise your cans up high! Got the rednecks, hillbillies, cowboys And the cousins rolling by! Got the swamp folk, the hayseeds, The good ol' boys in boots, The duck hunters, mud runners, And the folks who ain't got two good roots! We're splashing in the water, Got the speakers on repeat, If you ain't covered head to toe in mud, You ain't partying with me! It's a PARTY AT THE CREIK! Yeah, a PARTY AT THE CREIK! Where the banjos play till Sunday And the whole damn county's weak! [Bridge – Half-time stomp and handclaps] There's the NASCAR crowd! (HELL YEAH!) There's the rodeo crew! (YEE-HAW!) There's the swamp-country boys With their boots full of goo! There's the corn-fed farmers! There's the fishing fools! There's the folks who bring their own chairs And the ones who brought the mules! There's the Southern belles dancing With the good ol' boys in tow, And a guy named Cletus in a kiddie pool Putting on a fishing show! Now somebody holler, "GIT-R-DONE!" Somebody yell, "LET'S RIDE!" If you hear that banjo ringing, Get your country ass outside! [Verse 3 – Faster, rowdier] The grill's cooking ribs and the cornbread's hot, There's a jar of pickled eggs that nobody forgot, The preacher's playing horseshoes with a guy named Big Jim, And the sheriff's off duty so he's dancing with them! Got a bluegrass band playing some three-chord gold, A grandpa telling stories that he's told a thousand times old, Kids running wild with the dogs in the grass, And a lady named Tammy yelling, "WHO TOOK MY GLASS?" The stars come out and the fire burns low, But nobody's leaving and nobody says no, We'll be sore in the morning, smelling like smoke, With a sunburned face and a terrible joke! [Final Chorus – Big harmonies, fiddle, banjo and electric guitar] It's a PARTY AT THE CREIK, y'all, Raise your cans up high! Got the rednecks, hillbillies, cowboys And the cousins rolling by! Got the swamp folk, the hayseeds, The farmers and the freaks, The truck-stop philosophers And the kings of muddy creeks! We're dancing by the firelight, Got our boots stuck in the clay, We'll be talking 'bout this crazy night For the next six months and days! It's a PARTY AT THE CREIK! Yeah, a PARTY AT THE CREIK! From the hollers to the bayou, Hear the whole damn Southland speak! [Outro – Spoken, with banjo fading out] Well, Cletus lost a boot, Bubba's asleep in the truck, Tammy found her drink, And Grandpa's still fighting that raccoon. Same time next Saturday? HELL YEAH! PARTY AT THE CREIK, Y'ALL! BRING YOUR COUSINS! BRING YOUR COOLER! AND SOMEBODY PLEASE BRING MORE CORNBREAD!
