And this is why Country Music will be around when I am gone.

I had a friend, key word here is "had", who explained to me that country was not an acceptable venue as far as the true music fans went.  He further went on to explain to me that the others in the Music Chat room on eBay had never tolerated Country until I came along and were only doing so because I was well liked in the room and had become buddies with some of the old timers.  Well, the Chat rooms on eBay are now history, but I still hang out with a few of those who were in there.  We have located to another chat room outside of eBay so we are all good to go.  Unfortunately I do not have the friend who said that to me, but I do still have Country Music.  And that is just why Country is here at my house and it always will be. 
See us country women do not have to dress up to the nines to go out.  We are just as at home in a pair of cut offs as the city girls are in silk and satin.  Some times we do like to "put on the dog" just to show the "good old boys" that it can be done.  We could stand around in a shimmery gown with our hair piled up high and hold a martini glass and you would never know we were hicks.  That is the beauty of country girls.  Try bringing your fancy ladies down to the farm to wrestle a baby calf away from it's momma, or throw the hay over the fence to the horse.  Ain't gonna happen, is it?  Your women don't like the smell of manure, but to us old country gals it is the smell of freedom and a steak on the grill.
And when you listen to the music that you listen to, does it tie your guts up in a knot?  I don't think so.  When we sing, we sing of heartache, pain, death, lust, happiness, tears and laughter.  Oh, yeah, and prison.  Our music has words that can wring tears out of the hardest heart.  I listen to yours and I have to try to identify the various instruments and then of course there is that other kind about "Whose yo' momma?" or "Who Let the Dogs Out?" God help me if I ever ended up at the Opera.  Oh, but then there is the "Grand Old Opera" isn't there?  My music tells a story of my roots and it doesn't pull any punches.  Give me a man whose left hand is calloused and I will give you a guitar picker.  I tried to learn to play the guitar once and my fingers were so sore that I gave it up.  And it did not matter that my teacher kissed them, they still hurt. 
Now I think it is fine that you like your music and I do not dispute your right to that, but leave me alone with Willie and Waylon and the boys and a little Hank and Lefty and we will be good to go, cause I gotta tell you this  Redneck Woman  is here to stay!  Hell Ya!  Hell Ya!