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I got a picture of himbarefoot in the mud |
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Behind his grandpa's plow an' two great mules |
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When he turned ten years old, on May 8, '53. |
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He grew up fearin' God in Washburn, Tennessee |
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The closest thing he had to a Dad was his Uncle Bob |
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An' he could only dream of things like little league baseball |
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An' that little boy, with big blue eyes and calloused hands |
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Huh, became my old man |
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Well she was a Kentucky girl, born on Valentine's Day |
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The fourth child of five to my Grandma, Eula May |
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So shy and beautiful with sunset hair and emerald eyes |
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Her Daddy spent his life workin' in the coal mines |
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Now in my eyes, all my life, my Daddy's been a Saint |
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But even Saints need Angels to show them the way |
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And over thirty-seven years ago, he asked for Margaret Lynn's hand |
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And that Angel married my old man |
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And there were times I tried to buck, the truthful things they said |
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But now I'm glad that, more than once, they rattled my stubborn head |
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'Cause my folks are just like mountains, I looked at from afar |
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But now the closer I get to them, the bigger they are |
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The time seems to fly anymore, and the holidays are so far apart |
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There's no way a 'phone call could express what's in my heart |
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So this is just a song to say how greatful I am |
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For Mamma and my old man |
[03:26.160] |
For Mamma and my old man |