THAT OLD WOODEN ROCKER
|
|
There it stands by the fire with its back to the wall
|
That old wooden rocker, so stately and tall
|
With naught to disturb it but dusting of broom
|
And no one to use it in that parlor room
|
|
Chorus
|
As she sat by the fire, she would rock, rock, rock
|
And she heard but the tick of the old grand clock
|
Eighty years has she sat in that chair, prim and tall
|
That old wooden rocker that stands by the wall
|
|
How well I still remember in days that are gone by
|
How we stood by that rocker, my sister and I
|
And we listened to the stories that grandma would tell
|
As she sat in the rocker that we all loved so well
|
|
If the chair could but speak, oh the tales it would tell
|
How my poor aged grandpa, in his battle, fell
|
Beneath the stars and the stripes, he fought bravely and true
|
He cherished his freedom beneath the red white and blue
|
|
Chorus
|
|
Now grandma is dead, all the stories are done
|
All the children have followed her, yes one by one
|
They have all gone to meet her in the sweet by and by
|
And all that is left is my sister and I
|
|
Chorus
|
|
-----------------
|
That Old Wooden Rocker
|
Doc Watson |