Tall Tales & Short Fuses

(Title: “Tall Tales & Short Fuses”)

Verse 1
I was born way up north where the Yankees talk funny
But Mama moved south when the money got runny
Pine Knot raised me on red-dirt and trouble
Six-foot-seven of wrong-side-of-the-bubble
Class of ’87 said “Boy, you ain’t goin’ far”
Joke’s on them—I’m sippin’ shine out the lid of a Mason jar
Two master’s degrees hangin’ next to my Green Beret
Still the same wild hillbilly they threw away

Pre-Chorus
I got a still in the holler, a Bible on the dash
A left hook from God and a right from Jack

Chorus
Yeah, I’m tall tales and short fuses, moonshine in my veins
Runnin’ with a Cajun who’s half insane
He’s five-foot-nothin’ but flies like the devil’s own son
We drop in hot, get the job done
From Kentucky ridges to Louisiana mud
We’re whiskey-proof, bulletproof, born in the flood
They said we’d never make it—look at us now
Hell-raising heroes in a beat-up ol’ plow

Verse 2
My buddy Brandon, we call him CubDriver
Swamp-born and bred, meaner than a gator with a hangover
He’ll land that bird on a dollar and give you back change
Fix your AC in a hurricane, nothin’ feels strange
Short little bastard with a dip in his lip
Can outrun, outgun, and outdrink every son of a bitch
We log off work, log on to war
Black ops on the screen, cold beer on the floor

Pre-Chorus
He’s crawfish crazy, I’m white-lightnin’ loud
Together we’re thunder wrapped up in a cloud

Chorus
Yeah, we’re tall tales and short fuses, moonshine in my veins
Runnin’ with a Cajun who’s half insane
He’s five-foot-nothin’ but flies like the devil’s own son
We drop in hot, get the job done
From Kentucky ridges to Louisiana mud
We’re whiskey-proof, bulletproof, born in the flood
They said we’d never make it—look at us now
Hell-raising heroes in a beat-up ol’ plow

Bridge
Teachers said “least likely,” now they’re eatin’ crow
I’m scrollin’ through my DD-214 slow
Brandon’s laughin’, spittin’ Skoal in a Dixie cup
Two redneck legends that just won’t shut up

Final Chorus (big, rowdy, half-time then double-time kick)
Yeah, we’re tall tales and short fuses, moonshine in our veins
From the Green Mountains of grief to the fields of glory and pain
We turned “you’ll never” into “watch me do it again”
Here’s to the ones who were counted out—amen
Raise ’em high, boys, from the holler to the bayou
The least likely just became the damn few
They said we’d never make it—look at us now
Still standin’ ten feet tall in a six-foot town

Outro
So pour one out for the rebels who refused to behave
We ain’t done raisin’ hell from the cradle to the grave
Tall tales and short fuses… y’all can kiss our ass
Least likely to succeed?
Nah, we were just built to outlast.

(Now crank the steel guitar, throw in a rowdy banjo roll, and let Morgan, Hardy, and Jelly all three take a verse live—that’s how you win every damn award in Nashville.)