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Old Folks  (Joe Butler)


You'll always hear me say Hello Ma'am
Thank you
Good morning
Looking fine
It's all those old folks left here waiting
That leapt my heart into my mind

It's a sad, sad feeling
To still be around

On every sunny Sunday morning
All golden-aged and sittin' in
Comes out to putter in the sunshine
And shuffle through his deck of bein'

It's a sad, sad feeling
To still be around
And it's the same old tired park bench
Nobody's found

Soft wrinkled stories if you listen
About the lazy days back when
Your mom and dad were little babies
And he had friends still livin' then

It's a sad, sad feeling
To still be around
And it's the same old tired park bench
Nobody's found
And there was a tree put there for shading
That they cut down

The fields he loved got turned to highways
From horse to car to plane to moon
Staying well meant that he feels older
Yet none of his kids have the room

It's a sad, sad feeling
To still be around
And it's the same old tired park bench
Nobody's found
There was a tree put there for shading
That they cut down
And his old shoes
Had worn a spot there
From grass to ground