Barefoot In The Clay

Hey Y'all! I'm back! Okay, so finishing up Numb was the best thing ever! I woke up with my mind racing and I decided it was time to hammer out another tune! Okay, so here's the scoop. If you've ever listened to Southern Style, you'll recognize my hook. "It's half a dozen pick-up trucks, parked 'round a ten foot flame. And twice as many country girls barefoot in the clay". How did that line become it's own song. Well let me tell you...

So when I attended the Barbara Cloyd workshop earlier this year, I took my best song...Southern Style. Why was this my best song? Well it had the most commercial theme of my catalog. Boy I can write random story songs and depressing ballads all day long, but Southern Style was my baby. I wrote it just as bro-co was gaining steam, and I thought that it was "the one". It even got me on the NSAI "Ones to Watch" list at one point. Woo-hoo! Yay for a party song! However, as the workshop got closer, in my mind, I knew what kind of critique I would be receiving. I wrote Southern Style in 2012...since then thousands of bonfire party songs have been written, so it was horribly outdated. So I chose to look at the workshop as a learning experience. I was hoping for that one morsel of brutal honesty to knock me out of my ballad and story song rut. Well...I got it. Barbara said I was heading in the right direction, but my song was predictable. However, she pointed out one line that she really liked... "barefoot in the clay". 

I kept that in mind, but never felt compelled to re-write Southern Style. After two years of playing it and pitching it...I was just kinda over it. It's still one of my favorites to play out...because it's just a gritty, dirty country song, but I just felt like it was past it's prime.

Well this summer, I was actually sitting out by a bonfire, thinking about the "barefoot in the clay" line, and humming a little melody "You can slap on a southern drawl and dance the night away, but you don't know country 'til you're barefoot in the clay". I've had those lines for two months...but never really put much thought into them.

Well, this morning, as I pulled up my computer to work on some homework, I started thinking about those lines and I realized, it was time to write the song. The first thing that came to mind was an encounter with a gentleman (I say gentleman with sarcasm) at a Justin Moore concert. He was going on and on and on about how country he was....but it was just a front. That pretty boy just didn't have a clue. I've tried to write songs about our conversation before (because I just got a kick out of it), but I was never able to hit the nail on the head. Well...I went for it again and this time, I must say, I'm kinda diggin' it. I'll probably try to put music to it sometime in the next few weeks, so hopefully I can get a recording up!

Barefoot in the Clay

© 2014 Chelsey Sears

You strut on in, like you own this town

In your new designer jeans

That brand new cowboy hat there on your head

And a button up  from Abercrombie

Boy you can flash a wink

If your little heart desires

But I’ve got you pegged

Like a faded yard sale flyer

You can work your best lines, and may even sing along

To a couple George Strait tunes, or a Waylon Jennings song

You can slap on a southern drawl, and dance the night away

But you don’t know country, ‘til you’re barefoot in the clay

Go on an brag ‘bout all the things we’ll do

In your big ole truck bed

I’ll pretend that I didn’t see you

Rolling up in that little S-10

Sure I’ll play along

Stroke your ego a bit

‘Til you chase your whiskey down

‘Round here that’s a sin

You can work your best lines, and may even sing along

To a couple George Strait tunes, or a Waylon Jennings song

You can slap on a southern drawl, and dance the night away

But you don’t know country, ‘til you’re barefoot in the clay

Well I’m oh so flattered, by your one night offer

But man, you really missed the mark

It ain’t about some fancy boots

It’s ‘bout hard work, bonfires, and fishing in the dark

You can work your best lines, and may even sing along

To a couple George Strait tunes, or a Waylon Jennings song

You can slap on a southern drawl, and dance the night away

But you don’t know country, ‘til you’re barefoot in the clay

You can slap on a southern drawl and dance the night away

But you don’t know country, ‘til you’re barefoot in the clay