Country is an aural pain.
I don't like the lame refrains.
Guys and gals who sing country,
They just keep a-twangin' on.
And when they aren't keening,
They just keep a-twangin' on.

And the songs all have the same sound,
About achin' hearts,
And family squabbles and strife,
And horses that are smart.
They're always getting' stewed
And half the time they sing off key--hay!

Country is an aural pain.
I don't like the lame refrains.
Guys and gals who sing country,
They just keep a-twangin' on.
And when they aren't keening,
They just keep a-twangin' on.

These singers get all broke up
And then try to make amends
But how can they make amends?
Because before long they start drinking again.
SPOKEN: And then they go out to their horse and mount it.

Whoa-oh-oh!

Country is an aural pain.
I don't like the lame refrains.
Country is an aural pain.
I don't like the lame refrains.

They bare their souls, sing their hearts out,
But it still sounds like a screech.
I do not want to listen--
I'd rather be sucked by a leech,
Which just might destroy my health,
At least, I'm not in aural hell. No way!

If I were a spy and they grabbed me, then tortured me
To get me to bare my soul, they could simply play country.
Please don't go on,
Throw out, throw out those songs about strife
So I can sleep at night.