Letras: Pat Green. Dancehall Dreamer. West Texas Holiday.

(Pat Green)

September comes to Texas just one time every year
So we get our guns and our pickup trucks
And a bunch of that Lone Star beer
Well we head out for the open plains
Where the birds they flow like wine
We hunt them up and then we shoot them down
Man it makes me feel so fine
The manly sport is what I'm talking about
So you can grab your pouch of chew
If we get bored 'cause the birds won't fly
We'll shoot rabbits with my .22

Chorus
I don't wanna go to Paris, I get enough French with my fries
Just send me on down to Abilene
For the hunting man's paradise
Honey you can stay at home all day
Laugh and dance go out shopping and play
'cause I'll be out with the boys
on a West Texas Holiday

Hunting is a lot like religion or so it is I'm told
They're both just a simple little way of life
And they're both good for your soul
From Robert Earl Keen to Robert E. Lee
Perfect strangers or best of friends
We all have a common little bond between us
We were born to be hunting men
If it flies it dies or so they say
And so often times it's true
Yeah but you take yours and I'll take mine
And we'll have us a Bar-B-Que

Chorus