Hey, girl. You want one of them girly boys, you go to them clubs and things. You want a real man, you come to folk festivals. Ain't none of them panty-wearing poofs at a real festival. Us men there are real men. Take me. I drive a D-9 caterpillar bulldozer during the day, pushing over mountains and trees when I'm not shooting off some dynamite, and play a genuine Martin Dreadnought to make music with. Ain't none of them nancy-boys who sit in an office all day do that. Yeah, so I'm a little whiff at times, but I guess you ain't never smelled a real man before.