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| Lyric Credits: |
Sam Cooper and Michael Laidley |
| Music Credits: |
Sam Cooper and Michael Laidley |
| Producer Credits: |
Sam Cooper |
| Publisher Credits: |
Jerricat Music and Michael Laidley |
| Performance Credits: |
Sam Cooper - all tracks |
| Label Credits: |
Red Heart Records |
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Short Song Description:
New Yorker becomes a southerner.
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| Song Length |
3:27 |
| Primary Genre |
Country-Rockabilly |
| Tempo / Feel |
- |
| Tempo / Feel |
Medium Slow (91 - 110) |
| Lead Vocal |
Male Vocal |
| Subject Matter 1 |
General |
| Mood 1 |
Delighted |
| Similar Artist 1 |
Vince Gill |
| Similar Artist 2 |
Randy Newman |
| Language |
English |
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COUNTRY FEVER
By Michael Laidley and Sam Cooper ©2012
615-469-4067 jericat@yahoo.com
He wore a pork pie hat, had a funky soul patch,
Instead of "F" he used "PH", to spell the word "phat".
He used to dance to punk rock, and Tony Bennett, too.
Spent his nights at CBGB's, and days at the Bronx Zoo.
Then one day he heard Garth Brooks, and that was all it took.
There ain't no cure for country fever, that's why he came down here,
He loves fixin's with his fried chicken, barbeque and beer.
He's out the concrete jungle, got a place deep in the woods,
Wears flannel shirts, rolls his own, and hunts for his own food.
Can't heal it with a pill or a shot, country fever's what he's got.
He is a blue collar boy, who's become a redneck,
Instead of raisin' hell, he's learned to raise a little heck.
He's traded Coney Island dogs for some grits and country ham.
He's learned some country manners, yes sir and yes m'am.
When he opens his mouth, you know he ain't from the South.
There ain't no cure for country fever, that's why he came down here,
He loves fixin's with his fried chicken, barbeque and beer.
He's out the concrete jungle, got a place deep in the woods,
Wears flannel shirts, rolls his own, and hunts for his own food.
Can't heal it with a pill or a shot, country fever's what he's got.
(instrumental solo)
There ain't no cure for country fever, that's why he came down here,
He loves fixin's with his fried chicken, barbeque and beer.
He's out the concrete jungle, got a place deep in the woods,
Wears flannel shirts, rolls his own, and hunts for his own food.
Can't heal it with a pill or a shot, country fever's what he's got.
Up north whether they like it or not, country fever's what he's got.
Back home they tried to get him to stop, country fever's what he's got.
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