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Honey, don't you be yelling at me when I'm cleaning my gunI'll wash the blood off the tailgate when deer season's doneWe got one more weekend to goAnd I'd like to kill one more doeSo I'll shovel the sidewalk again 'cause you're still in astewI bet the bridge tender's widow won't mind that I can'tplease youShe's sure got the run of the menOut here where the pickin's are thin and there's not much todoI woke up last night in the grip of a fright scared tobreathe for I might make a noiseThis life that we craved so little we saved between thegrandparents graves and the grandchildren's toysWe grew up hard and our children don't know what that meansWe turned into our parents before we were out of our teensThrough a series of Chevys and FordsThe occasional spin round the floor at the Copper CanteenNow the big boxes out on the bypass are shaving us thinI guess we'll hold on a couple more years 'til the pensionkicks inLetras de cancionesThen we'll sell all the stock in the storeLeave only the lock on the doorAnd wonder what thenWhen I wake up at night in the grip of a fright and you holdme so tight to your chestThen your breath on my skin still pulls me back in 'til I'mweightless and then I can restSo if Monsignor should pull you aside as you're leaving thechurchAnd I'm out on the ice, dropping lines for the walleye andperchTell him it's not your job to bring me to the foldAnd I'd rather stand out in the coldAnd honey I know that the woodpile's low and you can't closethe flueSo I'll split up a couple more cords 'fore the winter time'sthroughHold on to your rosary beadsLeave me to my mischievous deeds like we always do From Letras Mania