All y'all limeys wouldn't know your way round a bowl of cornmeal grits if your mama was right there learnin' it into your pate. Y'think you can throw down at the rodeo, but you'd be hollerin' and hogtied 'fore pa's got the tractor started. Y'all'd've been best mindin' your own beeswax, son. Not a one of you city slickers got the good sense god gave an acorn. Think you grab the bull by the horns, but you're too damn big for your britches, ain't that right?
voice;
All y'all limeys wouldn't know your way round a bowl of cornmeal grits if your mama was right there learnin' it into your pate. Y'think you can throw down at the rodeo, but you'd be hollerin' and hogtied 'fore pa's got the tractor started. Y'all'd've been best mindin' your own beeswax, son. Not a one of you city slickers got the good sense god gave an acorn. Think you grab the bull by the horns, but you're too damn big for your britches, ain't that right?