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

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