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Everyone knows him as old folks |
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Like the seasons he comes and he'll go |
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Just as free as a bird and as good as his word |
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That's why everybody loves him so |
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Always leaving his spoon in his coffee |
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Tucks his napkin up under his chin |
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And his own corn cob pipe is so mellow, hits right |
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But you needn't be ashamed of him |
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In the evenings after supper |
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What stories he tells |
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How he held his speech at Gettysburg for Lincoln that day |
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You know I know that one so well |
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One thing we don't know about old folks |
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Did he fight for the blue or the gray? |
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But he's so democratic and so diplomatic |
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We always let him have his way |
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In the evenings after supper |
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What stories he tells |
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How he held his speech at Gettysburg for Lincoln that day |
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Yes, I know that one so well |
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Some day there will be no more old folks |
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What a lonely old world this will be |
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Children's voices at play will be still fonding |
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The day they take old folks away |
