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People I know stopped to say
Hello, and I hope that someday
That we'll get electric lights and plumbing put in,
But I'm too old to be changin' my ways.
Now, we never needed anything more
Than this shack with it's weather-beaten door;
Though we may want the things that catalogues can bring,
Empty wishes leave a wanting man sore.
Oh, the light from that old oil lamp
Lights a way down the well beaten path;
And as memories come back from eighty years or more,
Goin' to die in my old wooden shack.
Got a horse when I was thirty years old,
And the horse lived for thirty years more;
When the lovely thing died, I hid and I cried,
Where it's buried now grows a rose.
With the wood that we hauled off those hills
And traded for cash at the mills,
Well, we bought all our needs and the animal feeds,
But there's wood left standing there still.
Oh, the light from that old oil lamp
Lights a way down the well beaten path;
And as memories come back from eighty years or more,
Goin' to die in my old wooden shack.
I plowed this here garden by force,
With the will and a mighty strong horse;
Though it took a long time to replace rock with lime,
For the hardships I'm none the worse.
A man belongs where he lives,
He's a part of the soil and the trees;
And when his life's done, and his life's end has come,
Take a man to rest in his peace.
Oh, the light from that old oil lamp
Lights a way down the well beaten path;
And as memories come back from eighty years or more,
Goin' to die in my old wooden shack.
And as memories come back from eighty years or more,
Goin' to die in my old wooden shack.
[C] People [G] I know stopped to [C] say
[F] Hello, and [C] I hope that [G] someday
[F] That we'll get electric lights and [C] plumbing put [Am] in,
But I'm [C] too old to be [G] changin' my [C] ways.
