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I made a trip back to my hometown last week |
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For my grandparent's 50 year anniversary |
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It was black leather wingtips, and big bouffant hair |
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Your typical senior affair |
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They were cutting a rug to a Glen Miller tune |
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When someone stood up and tapped a glass with a spoon |
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It was old Eddie Vicker's, granddaddy's best man |
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And his very best friend to this day |
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And his eyes grew misty as he raised his champagne |
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He said, here's to the makers of things built to last |
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Like church bells and bridges, and baseball on grass |
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Like Ferguson tractors and Lucchese boots |
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My daddy's old tools I still use |
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The pledge of allegiance, the stars and the stripes |
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The words in the Bible, the sun in the sky |
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And here's to the twinkle in old married eyes |
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Still there after fifty years past |
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Here's to the makers of things built to last |
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We live in a world now of plastic and glue |
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Disposable honor, replaceable truth |
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If a pot breaks, why fix it |
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Man, what's the use |
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It costs less to buy it brand new |
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Oh, but lately I've looked in the eyes of my wife |
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And I see there what matters the most in this life |
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And I have decided I'm taking a stand |
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To stay on that fifty year plan |
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Inspired by the words of a very wise man |
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He said, here's to the makers of things built to last |
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Like church bells and bridges, and baseball on grass |
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Like Ferguson tractors and Lucchese boots |
|
My daddy's old tools I still use |
|
The pledge of allegiance, the stars and the stripes |
|
The words in the Bible, the sun in the sky |
|
And here's to the twinkle in old married eyes |
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Still there after fifty years past |
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Here's to the makers of things built to last |
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Here's to the makers of things built to last |
