Daddy was a gardener,
He loved his corn and peas
The strawberry beds he kept
And tending all the apple trees.
Tomatoes, melons, row by row
He cultivated with his hoe.
I think of him in the sun,
Bending to his work til it was done.
Daddy was a carpenter,
He loved to cut and trim.
Whenever I hear a power saw
I always think of him,
Nails in his mouth, hammer in hand
Way up high on a ladder he'd stand.
I think of him in his coveralls
Packing up the tools as evening falls.
Once a month I sat on a chair
With his big hand on my head
And he carefully cut my hair
As clean and true as a carpenter could
do.
Daddy liked to work on cars,
Open up the hood,
Adjust the timing, tighten the belt
Grease the bearings good.
He and my uncles looked at cars
Parked in the driveway
And never tired of arguing
About Ford vs. Chevrolet.
He died in the house he built
And we carried him through town
In a long black Cadillac
And we laid him in the ground.
I think of him when I happen to say
Something he would've said
And then I feel his hand
Resting on my head
I think of him when I drive a car
And when a train goes by
And when I hear the hymns he loved
Or smell a fresh homemade pie
My old dad, my old dad,
The living leave, they move away,
But the dead are with us every day.
My old dad.
My friends have drifted far apart
But the dead are living in our heart
My old dad, my old dad.