I often think of him just sittin' there
in that old black raggedy rocking chair
the one with the scuffed arms
and the hole in the cushion
that he wouldn't let anyone repair
he said t'was so comfortable
and he didn't care
I can almost see him leaning back
feet up in the air
I can just see him sittin' in that old chair
and it seemed that he didn't have a worry or a care
He was just lookin' out o'er the land
day dreaming in the evening time
of days when he was a younger man
An old black dog lays at his feet
lame now from a life of hard work
and in her day she was the best
but as his cow dog, she never shirked
There's mocking birds a singing
way up there in those old oak trees
and Spanish moss is waving
in the gentle Southern breeze
Far out in the field in an old pine tree
a mourning dove calls low
as the evening sun shines down on her
in a sodt and mellow glow
I can see him now just as before
with a cup of coffee in his hand
as he relaxes now at the end of day
and the crikets chirp out in the sand
I see faded old patched over alls
and a dingy old straw hat
a red bandana in his pocket
and a cat laying on his lap
His boots are old and dusty
from truging in the soil
his face is burned and wrinkled
from a life of hard work and toil
His hands are scarred and calloused
chapped and oh so tough
knuckles twisted with arthritis
and fingernails thats cracked and rough
The fire place is his favorite spot
with the bricks made out of old red clay
they were the ones his daddy made
in a far off sweeter day
And there he sits just dozing
and through the windows
shine the rays of evening sun
and he's thinking 'bout tomorrow
for todays work's all been done