Friday afternoon trying to get home.
On down this dusty road, I must roam.
Barstools and Banjos on the radio.
Moccasin Creek kicking hick-hop flow.

Windows down in my pick-up truck.
Behind this 18 wheeler I am stuck.
Heavy traffic on the oil field road.
Off till Monday, I'm furloughed.

Pretty wife and a couple kids.
In the front yard on my cooler lid.
It’s full of beer and the charcoals hot.
To grill some redfish I had caught.

Couple months ago in the bay.
Gonna be one hella buffet.
Friends are coming with *** luck.
Ready to grill this corn in the shuck.

Beer is flowing and the food is good.
Send the kids to start gathering wood.
Bonfire burning and were feeling great.
Sitting around on an old milk crate.

All of a sudden the cops show up.
Their off duty just want to fill a cup.
Laughing and talking old times.
Feeling this good ought to be a crime.

All of the kids have gone to sleep.
I pray this great feeling, I can keep.
Pretty wife and I, are headed to bed.
Make a little love and rest our heads