| Everybody knows I like whiskey
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| Preferably from Tennessee
|
| But if you hand me an ice cold beer
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| Or some red wine, or some moonshine
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| Or one of them fruity drinks
|
| Hell, that’s alright with me
|
| God knows I love women
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| The devil knows they make me weak
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| And I might find the right one
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| And settle down in a little town
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| Or I might just stay wild and free
|
| And that’s alright with me
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| I like whiskey and tight denim
|
| On good hearted women
|
| And for that I make no apologies
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| Call me country, call me hippie
|
| A wildcat from Dixie
|
| And if you do or don’t like what you see
|
| That’s alright with me
|
| There’s nothing quite like the ocean
|
| With a little tent and a little beach
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| And I like sitting 'round the campfire with my guitar
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| And if somebody wants to pass around some green
|
| Hell, that’s alright with me
|
| I like whiskey and tight denim
|
| On good hearted women
|
| And for that I make no apologies
|
| Call me country, call me hippie
|
| A wildcat from Dixie
|
| And if you do or don’t like what you see
|
| That’s alright with me
|
| I just slip on my cheap sunglasses
|
| And let the world do it’s thing
|
| And even if it’s all just death and taxes
|
| Well, that’s alright with me
|
| I like whiskey and tight denim
|
| On good hearted women
|
| And for that I make no apologies
|
| Call me country, call me hippie
|
| A wildcat from Dixie
|
| And if you do or don’t like what you see
|
| That’s alright with me
|
| That’s alright with me |