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The preacher man says it's the end of time,

and the Mississippi River she's a-goin' dry.

The interest is up and the Stock Market's down,

and you only get mugged if you go downtown.

I live back in the woods, you see,

my woman and the kids and the dogs and me.

I got a shotgun, a rifle and a 4-wheel drive,

and a country boy can survive.

Country folks can survive!

I can plow a field all day long,

I can catch catfish from dusk 'til dawn.

We make our own whiskey and our own smoke too,

ain't too many things these old boys can't do.

We grow good old tomatoes

and homemade wine,

and a country boy can survive.

Country folks can survive!

Because you can't starve us out

and you can't make us run,

because we're them old boys

raised on shotgun

And we say "grace"

and we say "Ma'am",

and if you ain't into

that we don't give a damn.

We came from the West Virginia coal mines

and the Rocky Mountains and the western skies.

And we can skin a buck; we can run a trotline,

and a country boy can survive.

Country folks can survive!

I had a good friend in New York City,

he never called me by my name, just hillbilly.

My grandpa taught me how to live off the land

and his taught him to be a businessman.

He used to send me pictures

of the Broadway nights

and I'd send him some

homemade wine.

But he was killed by a man

with a switchblade knife,

for 43 dollars my friend

lost his life.

I'd love to spit some beech

nut in that dude's eyes,

and shoot him with my old .45!

Because a country boy can survive.

Country folks can survive!

Because you can't starve us out

and you can't make us run,

because we're them old boys

raised on shotgun.

And we say "grace"

and we say "Ma'am",

and if you ain't into

that we don't give a damn.

We're from North California

and South Alabama,

and little towns all

around this land.

And we can skin a buck,

we can run a trotline,

and a country boy can survive.

Country folks can survive!

Country boy can survive,

country folks can survive...