She's pony-tailed an' she's halter topped   Her bumper-sticker says: "I hate hip-hop"    With a southern drawl, she says: "Howdy, y'all"    And her hands ain't afraid of dirt   He's proud of his old truck   He spray painted over dents and rust   The motor smokes, it's got four bald tires   But the radio works   Raised on the Good Book and our country songs   Ridin' down back roads an' singin' along      So blame me for the way they are   Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar   Blame me for their cowboy hats   Roper boots, Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks   If you wanna point a finger at somebody   For the way they've been led   Blame me      They were kids when Hag and me came to town   All eyes and ears: look at 'em now   Center stage on the Grand Ole Opry   On a Saturday night   Sing of fishin' and the Lord above   Fallin' in and out of love   From Aunt Bea to Uncle Sam   And that American Pie   From big cities to the little towns    Were hard-core country inside and out      So blame me for the way they are   Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar   Blame me for their cowboy hats   Roper boots, Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks   If you wanna point a finger at somebody   For the way they've been led   Blame me      Blame me for the way they are   Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar   Blame me for their cowboy hats   Roper boots, Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks   If you wanna point a finger at somebody   For the way they've been led   Blame me   Blame me    Blame me, yeah