Back in the day, when I was young,

there was a song that my daddy sung.

Wrap itself around you like the sweetest breeze,

curling in through the lilac trees.

Oh yeah, he's long gone

but that song of his keeps rolling on.

 

We had us a hammock in a cottonwood tree.

Evenings we'd be there, him and me.

When you're a kid, you don't know

how lucky you are

just to have your dad and an old guitar.

Oh yeah, he's long gone

but that song of his keeps rolling on.

 

Then the war took him. I lost my way.

I had that guitar, but I could not play.

I tell you back then I wouldn't give ten cents

for this old farm-house and its picket fence.

Don't ask me, son. Don't ask me how.

I didn't know then what I do know now.

I wish my dad was here to see

that brand new hammock

in the cottonwood tree.

 

I've known those hands, that easy smile.

The wood's all stacked. Let's set awhile.

Come on, son, there's a patch of shade.

I'll play you the song that your grandpa played.

Oh yeah, he's long gone

but that song of his keeps rolling on.

Oh yeah, he's long gone

but that light in your eyes says he's rolling on.

 

© 2011 Echotongue Music

 

Cottonwood Tree

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