My old man was a mechanic, twisted wrenches all his life.In one ear was the opry, the other ear his wife.My mom was a beauty, her name was Lucille.She was his fiddle, and he was her steer.My old man was handsome, in a rough kind of way.He looked like Clint Eastwood, and he talked like John Wayne.Mama had Tammy, why did *** appeal?She was his fiddle, and he was her steer.She made him feel safe, in their room down the hall.She played all night.His heart strings, the sweetest love song of all.They fit together, like an old rod and reed.She was his fiddle, and he was her steer.She was his fiddle, and he was her steer.She was his fiddle, and he was her steer.She was his fiddle, and he was her steer.She was his fiddle, and he was her steer.She was his fiddle, and he was her steer.My buddy, that's country right there.That's heart-wrenching.Hey, let's talk it back to Keith.I love it.