They're torn and cracked, whethered and worn
Ripped and bruised and brown and strong and they may not be
Beautiful
But they get the job done
And they can cut a calf and rope a cow
Set a trap, shoot coyotes, hold the reins, twist wire
They work like a man, even though they look small
My hands may not be your kind of beautiful
Two silver rings and no diamond things
Burnt from cast-iron in the branding fire
Painted up on a Saturday night
They can be pretty good for breaking up a fight
My hands may not be your kind of beautiful
And they can cut a calf and rope a cow
Set a trap, shoot coyotes, hold the reins, twist wire
Sew a patch for a baby boy
They may look small, but they work like a man
My hands may not be your kind of beautiful
Sometimes they fail me when I don't know quite what to do
But they'll never hide they'll never stay or have to hide
They're hard working and always will
They can cut a calf and rope a cow
Set a trap, shoot coyotes, hold the reins, hold a hand, twist wire
They live for God, and they work like a man
My hands may not be your kind of beautiful
Your kind of beautiful
They're torn and cracked
Ripped and bruised and they're
Beautiful
And they get the job done