Isang kulisap
Ang ninakawan ng kinang
Ikinulong sa sisidlan

Bigla kang nanginig
Nang unang marining
Ang hikbi niyang puno ng pait
Bumalik din sayo ang sakit

Hindi ba't
Ikaw din ang may kakagawan
Ang iniisip ay sarili lamang
Bakit hndi ikaw ang magsimula
Pakawalan siya
At sindihan ang ninakaw niyang kinang




-Tula IV, Margaret Austin Go

Where did those lovely strings go
They disappeared and I want them back
The strings that made country so beautiful
Those strings that instilled what was real
The deep sound of that big bass
The furious squeals of a fiddle on fire
Where did those lovely strings go
They disappeared and I want them back

I'm a simple man
A country boy north of the Mason Dixon
I don't look for much
There's only the little things I that I yearn
Like the love of a good woman and a smooth whiskey
Maybe a reliable old truck and some folks that would miss me

I'm comfortable anywhere I go
From the corn fields of Illinois, to the mountains of Tennessee
I travel light, some blue jeans and some shirts
Perhaps with a few bucks for a little fun
I listen to some old country every day
Like No Show, Hank and Mr. Conway

I'm cut from old school cloth
Just like my folks before me
Yeah, I'm not fancy
I just am who I am
A lover and a fighter
A son, brother, uncle, and lover

The Star-Spangled Banner are Our Mangled Mannerisms

© Matthew Harlovic

I'm not a manufactured cowboy
Don't you dare call me one
I'm just a simple man
A tattooed hellbilly from a small Illinois town
I know of loss, sorrow and woe
And I don't give a **** about tailgates or daisy dukes

Too many folks talk too much
Throwing words around, saying they're outlaws
You ain't no outlaw and that is plain as day
There's many dues that you haven't paid
Country radio all sounds the same
Not one true, blue word in anything they say

When did so many people lose their soul
Become cookie cutter, and not care anymore
I miss the sound of real guitars and fiddles being played
Not interested in the trash that's get peddled these days
I'm not turning coat, not softening my stance
I'm a real **** hellbilly, and real **** proud

She's my Tennessee honey
My blue eyed baby
Her kisses are sweeter then the whiskey
With a smile so soft
She will make you see stars

When she catches a buzz
I catch one off of her
When she gives me that look
She shines brighter then a bonfire light
Just want to drink from her lips all night

It don't take much to make me happy
'Cause I'm from the south
I just need some good soul food
To cram into my mouth

Or I can sit on the creek bank
With my best fishing pole
Casting my line expertly
Into my secret fishing hole

A moonlit hike into the woods
Will soothe my achin' soul
Them city folks don't understand
It's better than silver or gold

When Sunday rolls around it's time
To get myself dressed up
The laying of hands and speaking in tongues
Will come if the Spirit moves us

There's a glamour to the south
Like a work of art that's living
Even the poorest of the poor
Open their hearts and are giving

So call me a redneck or a hick
It doesn't matter to me
I'm proud to be a southern girl
There's no place I'd rather be

When I first saw you
And you saw me too
Sparks of passion ignited my veins.

I looked in your eyes
And tried to disguise
The fact that my heart was riddled with pain.

For you had a girl
Who was your whole world
And all of my love was all in vain.

So I bided my time
And sipped on my wine
And silently prayed that one day

That you'd call it quits
And after the split
You would come to me and say

Well I like you baby
Do you think that maybe
We could spend a few lazy
Days alone?
Or maybe talk on the phone?

Cause girl you know
You drive me crazy.
You make my mind go
Fuzzy and hazy.
So tell me baby
Do you think maybe?

I dream a reoccurring dream
One that luckily frequents
I walk into a little dive bar
It smells of smoke and whiskey
I sit a table with three gentlemen
They happen to be outlaws
These aren't ordinary outlaws
They are the men that set the bar

There is the Man in Black
Next to him is good ol Waylon
Next to Waylon is No Show Jones
These men have seen it all
I sit down and order a glass of bourbon
They treat me like an old friend

They share their stories
Imparting wisdom I could never imagine
From the pain, the woe and the happiness
I take a lot with me
They tell me not to go soft
Stay the course, be who you are
As I finish the bourbon, I shake each of their hands
Giving them my honest thanks
I am an outlaw
And I hope to fill their boots one day