Flatland Farmer Lyrics - Terry Allen

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