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It's the feeling that I get holding my brand new baby. |
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Holding on to daddy's thumb just as tightly as he can hold |
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And it's hearin' people say he looks a lot like his daddy. |
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These things are a poor man's gold. |
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It's the twinkle in the eyes of the gray haired old man we call grandpa. |
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Tellin' tales to the kids that get taller every time there told. |
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And it's knowin' that for a while he's no longer lonely. |
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These things are a poor man's gold. |
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It's the smell of honeysuckle in the springtime it's the silence of a freshly fallin snow. |
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It's the sound of children laughing in the sunshine. |
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It's a crisp autum night with a million stars all aglow. |
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And it's the sweet sleepy sound of your warm gentle breathing. |
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As you cling to me in the night to keep away the cold. |
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And it's the softness of your body there in the darkness. |
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These things are a poor man's gold. |
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Honey theses precious things are a poor man's gold. |
