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OLD RIVERS
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Walter Brennan
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Words and music by Crofford (that's all I wrote at the time I transcribed
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it -- years ago)
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HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE I FIRST SEEN OLD RIVERS?
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WHY, I CAN'T REMEMBER WHEN HE WEREN'T AROUND.
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WELL, THAT OLD MAN DID A HEAP OF WORK;
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SPENT HIS WHOLE LIFE WALKING PLOWED GROUND.
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HE HAD A ONE-ROOM SHACK NOT FAR FROM US,
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AND WE WAS ABOUT AS POOR AS HIM.
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HE HAD ONE OLD MULE HE CALLED "MIDNIGHT",
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AND I'D TAG ALONG AFTER THEM.
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HE'D PLOW THEM ROWS STRAIGHT AND DEEP
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AND I'D TAG ALONG BEHIND,
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BUSTIN' UP CLODS WITH MY OWN BARE FEET --
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OLD RIVERS WAS A FRIEND OF MINE.
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THAT SUN WOULD GET HIGH AND THAT MULE WOULD WORK
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TILL OLD RIVERS'D SAY, "WHOA!"
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THEN HE'D WIPE HIS BROW, LEAN BACK IN THE REINS,
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AND TALK ABOUT A PLACE HE WAS GONNA GO.
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(CHORUS)
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SAY, ONE OF THESE DAYS I'M GONNA CLIMB THAT MOUNTAIN;
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WALK UP THERE AMONG THEM CLOUDS,
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WHERE THE COTTON'S HIGH AND THE CORN'S A-GROWIN',
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AND THERE AIN'T NO FIELDS TO PLOW.
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I GOT A LETTER FROM BACK HOME THE OTHER DAY --
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THEY'RE ALL FINE, AND THE CROPS IS HIGH --
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AND DOWN AT THE END MY MAMA SAID,
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"YOU KNOW, OLD RIVERS DIED."
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I'M JUST SITTING HERE ON THIS NEW-PLOWED EARTH,
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TRYIN' TO FIND ME A LITTLE SHADE.
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AND WITH THE SUN BEATING DOWN, 'CROSS THE FIELD I SEE
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THAT MULE, OLD RIVERS...AND ME
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(repeat CHORUS)
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-----------------
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Old Rivers
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| Walter Brennan |
