Blame Me

She's pony-tailed an' she's halter topped

Her bumper-sticker says, "I hate hip-hop"

With a southern drawl, she says, "Howdy, y'all"

And her hands ain't afraid of dirt

He's proud of his old truck

He spray painted over dents and rust

The motor smokes, it's got four bald tires

But the radio works

Raised on the

Good Book and our country songs

Ridin' down back roads singin' along

So blame me for the way they are

Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar

Blame me for their cowboy hats

Roper boots,

Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks

If you wanna point a finger at somebody

For the way they've been led

Blame meThey were kids when

Hag and me came to town

All eyes and ears, look at 'em now

Center stage on the

Grand Ole

OpryOn a Saturday night

And sing of fishin' and the

Lord above

Fallin' in and out of love

From Aunt

Bea to Uncle

SamAnd that

American Pie

From big cities to the little towns

Were hard-core country inside and out

So blame me for the way they are

Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar

Blame me for their cowboy hats

Roper boots,

Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks

If you wanna point a finger at somebody

For the way they've been led

Blame meBlame me for the way they are

Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar

Blame me for their cowboy hats

Roper boots,

Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks

If you wanna point a finger at somebody

For the way they've been led

Blame meBlame me

Blame me, yeah