Luck In My Steps, Dollars In My Shoe

Luck In My Steps, Dollars In My Shoe When very young I dreamt of a pot of gold, and the sweet things that money could buy. Now time tells me, you are just too old, with wings ripped, never again shall you fly! Yet dreams return every night as I sleep, they dance and parade as if coming soon. I hope so, for six feet is mighty deep, and no man has ever jumped over the moon! Now that moon chides me for being too slow, stranger never looking for its soft gleams. Yet where was it as I suffered hard blows, my every step was against raging streams! With luck in my steps, dollars in my shoe my heart singing into that clear blue sky. I eagerly raced into town looking for you, and found a letter saying adios and goodbye! When very young, I dreamt of a pot of gold, and the sweet things that money could buy. Now time tells me, you are just too old, with wings ripped, never again shall you fly! Robert J. Lindley