I've got a picture of him barefoot in the mud
behind his grandpa's plow and two gray mules
when he turned ten years old in May of 1953
And he grew up fearing God in Washburn Tennessee
The closest thing he had to a dad was his Uncle Bob
And he could only dream of things like little league baseball
And that little boy with big blue eyes and calloused hands
became my old man
She was a Kentucky girl born on Valentine's Day
The fourth child of five to my grandma Eula May
So shy and beautiful with sunset hair and emerald eyes
her daddy spent his life working in the coal mines
Now in my eyes all my life my dad has been a saint
But even saints need angels to show them the way
Over 37 years ago he asked for Margaret Lynn's hand
And that angel married my old man
There were times I tried to buck the truthful things they said
And now I'm glad that more than once they rattled my stubborn head
My folks are just like mountains I looked at from afar
But now the closer I get to them the bigger they are
Time seems to fly anymore and the holidays are so far apart
There's no way a phone call could express what's in my heart
So this is just a song to say how thankful I am
For mama and my old man
For mama and my old man
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