My Old Man

<br>I got a picture of him, barefoot in the mud.<br>Behind his grandpa`s plow an` two great mules.<br>When he turned ten years old, on May 8, `53.<br>He grew up fearin` God in Washburn, Tennessee.<br>The closest thing he had to a Dad was his Uncle Bob.<br>An` he could only dream of things like little league baseball.<br>An` that little boy, with big blue eyes and calloused hands,<br>Huh, became my old man.<br><br>Well she was a Kentucky girl, born on Valentine`s Day.<br>The fourth child of five to my Grandma, Eula May.<br>So shy and beautiful with sunset hair and emerald eyes.<br>Her Daddy spent his life workin` in the coal mines.<br>Now in my eyes, all my life, my Daddy`s been a Saint.<br>But even Saints need Angels to show them the way.<br>And over thirty-seven years ago, he asked for Margaret Lynn`s hand.<br>And that Angel married my old man.<br><br>And there were times I tried to buck, the truthful things they said.<br>But now I`m glad that, more than once, they rattled my stubborn head.<br>`Cause my folks are just like mountains, I looked at from afar.<br>But now the closer I get to them, the bigger they are.<br><br>The time seems to fly anymore, and the holidays are so far apart.<br>There`s no way a `phone call could express what`s in my heart.<br>So this is just a song to say how greatful I am.<br>For Mamma and my old man.<br><br>For Mamma and Dad.