Copper Canteen

Honey, don't you be yelling at me when I'm cleaning my gun
 
 I'll wash the blood off the tailgate when deer season's done
 We got one more weekend to go
 And I'd like to kill one more doe
 ♪
 So I'll shovel the sidewalk again 'cause you're still in a stew
 I bet the bridge tender's widow won't mind that I can't please you
 She's sure got the run of the men
 Out here where the pickin's are thin and there's not much to do
 ♪
 I woke up last night in the grip of a fright scared to breathe for I might make a noise
 This life that we craved so little we saved between the grandparents graves and the grandchildren's toys
 We grew up hard and our children don't know what that means
 We turned into our parents before we were out of our teens
 Through a series of Chevys and Fords
 The occasional spin round the floor at the Copper Canteen
 ♪
 Now the big boxes out on the bypass are shaving us thin
 I guess we'll hold on a couple more years 'til the pension kicks in
 Then we'll sell all the stock in the store
 Leave only the lock on the door
 And wonder what then
 ♪
 When I wake up at night in the grip of a fright and you hold me so tight to your chest
 Then your breath on my skin still pulls me back in 'til I'm weightless and then I can rest
 So if Monsignor should pull you aside as you're leaving the church
 And I'm out on the ice, dropping lines for the walleye and perch
 Tell him it's not your job to bring me to the fold
 And I'd rather stand out in the cold
 And honey I know that the woodpile's low and you can't close the flue
 So I'll split up a couple more cords 'fore the winter time's through
 Hold on to your rosary beads
 Leave me to my mischievous deeds like we always do
 
 Honey, don't you be yelling at me when I'm cleaning my gun
 
 I'll wash the blood off the tailgate when deer season's done
 We got one more weekend to go
 And I'd like to kill one more doe
 ♪
 So I'll shovel the sidewalk again 'cause you're still in a stew
 I bet the bridge tender's widow won't mind that I can't please you
 She's sure got the run of the men
 Out here where the pickin's are thin and there's not much to do
 ♪
 I woke up last night in the grip of a fright scared to breathe for I might make a noise
 This life that we craved so little we saved between the grandparents graves and the grandchildren's toys
 We grew up hard and our children don't know what that means
 We turned into our parents before we were out of our teens
 Through a series of Chevys and Fords
 The occasional spin round the floor at the Copper Canteen
 ♪
 Now the big boxes out on the bypass are shaving us thin
 I guess we'll hold on a couple more years 'til the pension kicks in
 Then we'll sell all the stock in the store
 Leave only the lock on the door
 And wonder what then
 ♪
 When I wake up at night in the grip of a fright and you hold me so tight to your chest
 Then your breath on my skin still pulls me back in 'til I'm weightless and then I can rest
 So if Monsignor should pull you aside as you're leaving the church
 And I'm out on the ice, dropping lines for the walleye and perch
 Tell him it's not your job to bring me to the fold
 And I'd rather stand out in the cold
 And honey I know that the woodpile's low and you can't close the flue
 So I'll split up a couple more cords 'fore the winter time's through
 Hold on to your rosary beads
 Leave me to my mischievous deeds like we always do