We pulled up to the country store to buy a soda pop.
We were hankerin’ for an Orange Crush, before our final stop.
With my father ridin’ shotgun, I was stuck behind the wheel.
We’d been drivin’ since near daylight. Now a drink would be ideal.
‘Twas plain to see the country store had been around awhile.
The floors were rustic lumber, placed for solid not for style.
A barrel of used fishin’ poles, behind the entrance door,
were there to grab for free, in case your pole was done for sure.
The dusty pictures on the wall showed years of gone by days.
I felt a sense of comfort comin’ from their country ways.
I passed two older ladies. They were sippin’ on iced tea.
I guessed ’em to be regulars, or so it seemed to me.
Then wondered, “Were they sisters? Two old maids with time to spare.
Or maybe even twins. They were identical I swear.”
The older gal spoke up and said, “I see you’re not from here.
So, welcome to our country store.” She sounded so sincere.
I told her, “We’re just passin’ through. We’ve driven since near dawn.”
I said, “A drink would taste so good. Sure glad your sign was on.”
I stepped up to the counter, pulled my wallet out to pay.
But then the other gal piped up, “Your drink’s on us today.”
So, I thanked ’em both most kindly, then I walked out to the truck.
We drove on down the road. The country store was our good luck.
I took a quick look in the mirror. We hadn’t driven far.
When I saw the blue lights flashin’, had to be the sheriff’s car.
The officer walked up and said, “I guess you’d be the one.
You left your wallet at the store. Those gals came plumb undone!”
I shook his hand and thanked him, then we got back on the road.
That day we met some folks who symbolize the country code.
So, when I talk of country, and to me it ain’t no joke.
The world would be much better if we all were country folk.
