September come 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 all flow like wine, we hunt them up 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 you a pouch of chew, If we get bored 'cause the
Birds won't fly, we'll shoot the rabbits with my .22.

[Chorus]
I don't wanna go to Paris, I get enough French will my fries,
Just send me on down to Abilene, for the huntingman'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 huntin' 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]

Writer : GREEN, PAT
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing