"Mama, can I borry the tooth tonight?"
I woke up this morning wondering if I'm white trash. After I crawled out from under the shrub, drank breakfast from a paper sack, and put my fancy church-married wife up on blocks in the front yard, I burnt rubber to get to one of them computers at the liberry.
I found the White Trash Test. It asked me tough questions, such as "Can you hook up your home to your Camaro and move it to another park?" and "Can you see your living room floor?" I answered them like a man, like my Daddy told me before he ran out on us four kids and Mama -- and them other womans.
The Results
Well, now, I'm offended. How dare they call me a Democrat? Cause I ain't none. I earns them food stamps. And I invests all the cash I gets back into lottery scratch-offs. See? Look under my nails.
I ain't no Repub-- um, Republincolns-- uh, Repub-- you know, them snootsy-tootsy barstool drinkers. I tain't none of them kneeder.
What th'! Huh? "Wine from a box?"
They's gots that now? Shee-yeah! I gots to gets me some of that! Go good with my chaw in a sock.
Put on Waylon.
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