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I would sit at his feet 
When he’d rest for a spell 
From his task of plowing 
That looked like pure hell 
Now his voice was so soft 
And his manners were the best 
Wearing overalls and brogans 
With a huge muscled chest 
Said his folks used to work 
For some gentleman whose now passed on 
When him and his brothers 
Would always pick those pecans 
The old man always halved them 
He said with a big smile 
And you know how it is boy 
Cause you’re a little child 
Ain’t nothing no better 
When it’s pecan picking time 
No matter how high up 
One’s body had to climb 
The crunch of that meat 
Wow, it just drove me insane 
And the meat was mighty tasty 
If them trees got sufficient rain 
He’d laugh and tell other tales 
Then say, well time for work 
And click his lips together 
And give the reins a little jerk 
Old George knew the routine 
Lord that mule’s gotta be smart 
And Samson the colored man 
Would have another row to start 
The old man had been doing it 
Ever since time began 
He said that was the reason 
He now was just an old man 
His smile showed missing teeth 
But he really didn’t care 
With salt and pepper shades 
Sprinkled throughout his hair  
And me right behind him 
Bursting clods with my toes 
As the sun begins to sink 
At the end of the rows

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