Lyrics

My old man was born in 1943
While his old man was overseas
Fighting in the big one; Shooting at the Nazis

He grew up in Akron Ohio
Went to the same high school as David Allen Coe
But his buddy Bob was his favorite country music singer

He started drinking PBR when he was 15
With a pack of Pall Malls rolled up in his sleeve
He wore his hair slicked back and always had his sideburns low

He had plenty of jobs because he loved to work
He once was an ambulance driver; he was even a soda jerk
Until he started up his own Aluminum siding company; Back in the ‘60’s

When I look back what I always remember
After his long work day him sitting at the table
In his plain white t-shirt and a pair of Dickies work pants

He had these giant work boots, I used to put ‘em on
I’d run around the house with them flappin’ along
It never seemed I’d ever get big enough to wear them shoes

He loved to sit at a Barstool with all of his friends
Shootin’ the bull about how things used to have been
Tellin’ those same old jokes that were funny every time

Although I was just a kid, he’d take me along
Had me queue ‘em up; all his favorite songs
After he loaded me with quarters for the jukebox
and the pinball machine

He loved Hank Williams and Johnny Cash
And Elvis was king no disputin’ that
Hank Thompson, Johnny Horton, Loretta Lynn,
Heck, all of the good ones

Things were pretty good and they should’ve went on
But life has a way of knocking us down
And those good old days turned into this sad country western song

I got a little older, and we butted heads
I thought I knew it all and hit the road instead
Years went by before we were able to patch things up

But even then I didn’t see him much
Which was a dang shame cuz I liked that old cuss
The world seemed right just knowing that he was around

But those Pall Malls finally took his breath away
And they tried to cut him back to just one beer a day
But he was gonna gamble for as long as they’d let him stay and play

He never did fold, he always went all in
But in the end the house always wins
The stakes are Rich and we all finally run out of chips

On a cold March day we said our goodbyes
With my funeral suit on and a tear in my eye
I wish we could’ve had just one more for the road