Old Folks

Everyone knows him as 'Old Folks'
Like the seasons, he'll come and he'll go
Just as free as a bird and as good as his word
That's why everybody loves him so
Always leaving his spoon in his coffee
Puts his napkin right under his chin
And that yellow cob pipe, it's so mellow, it's ripe
But you needn't be ashamed of him

In the evening, after supper
What stories he would tell
How he held the speech at Gettysburg
For Lincoln that day
Oh, I know that one so well
I don't quite understand about 'Old Folks'
Did he fight for the blue or the gray?
For he's so diplomatic and so democratic
We always let him have his way

Always know where to find 'Old Folks'
When there's some little chore he can do
At the old livery stable, whenever he's able
Pitching the shoes with Lord knows who
Then he meets the late train at the station
Sits and whittles when it's overdue
While they're sorting the mail, every night without fail
He's sneaking a little nip or two

And every Friday he'll go fishing
Way down on Buzzard's Lake
But he'll only hook a trout or two, the whale got away
So we warm up the steak
Oh, someday there's gonna be no more 'Old Folks'
What a lonely old town this will be
Children's voices at play
Be still for one day
The day that they take 'Old Folks' away