What a Story in Those Old Hands
If his old hands could talk, my what a story they could tell.
The only life he's known, has been brutal, pages taken straight out of hell.
Yet you never heard a complaint he just took whatever life dealt out.
And during the hardest of times he never once let his family do without.
His old hands were rough, calloused, and many times bloody and raw.
But his heart was soft, pure, loving, and kind, almost perfect without any flaw.
No bitterness could be found it was just not his way.
He wasn't real religious but I know he loved the Lord and knowing him I feel that it was okay.
His only vice was a 5 cent bag of Bull Durham smoking tobacco when he had the price.
I've heard him cuss but he'd always tell me you don't repeat that cause it ain't nice.
He'd get up before daylight and walk miles to work.
Then usually after dark he'd return home, but his duties he would never shirk!
Those were childhood memories of a better place and better times,
memories of my grandpa when he was still in his prime.
He was my hero and to this day a better man I have yet to meet,
I miss him a lot, and just knowing him has made my life better and filled memories that no one can ever delete!