He's a flatland farmer

Who flatpicks and old guitar

Yeah he's a flatland farmer

He flatpicks and old guitar

He don't make no money

But he can out-pick them Nashville stars

Yeah the people come in pick-ups

They travel in from miles around

Ahhh the people come in pick-ups

They travel in from miles around

Yeah they park in his front yard...sit on his ground

An they eat fried chicken to that flatland sound

Eat a little...

Well they call mighty Nashville

Music City USA

Yeah they call that god-all-mighty Nashville

Music City USA

Ahhh but get out of the city to where the farmer plays

An you're into real music country without them city ways

Get with the flatland farmer

Who flatpicks an old guitar

Get with the flatland farmer

Who flatpicks an old guitar

An closest you'll want to any Music Row

Is a long dirt furrow where cotton grows

Grow...

Get with the flatland farmer

Who flatpicks an old guitar

Yeah, get with the flatland farmer

Who flatpicks an old guitar

He don't make no money...Awww

But I'll tell...that boy can

Out sing

Out pick

Out play

Out drink

Out pray...and out lay

Any of them Nashville stars