This man in my home is a tired old man
And since I've known him he
Worked hard all his life long
Why he'd leave for work way
Before the sun would come about
And he'd come home with the
Moon pushing him to the ground
Yea this man, this man is a hard working old man
He digs deep trenches
With picks and shovels
And digs up trees and gathers debris
He snapped them twigs with a breeze
Yea this man, this man is a hard working old man
He lifts big stones with
His hands and muscles
And busted them stones
With hammers and chisels
And couldn't wait for
That 12 o'clock whistle
Yea this man, this man is a hard working old man
And he done told me
He can not go on anymore
I see his tears he tried to hide
From his job he worked with pride
And his big hands open wide
Full of blisters deep in side
Yea this man, this man is a hard working old man
And now I have to say
This man is my old man
And my home is his home
And here he will remain
Until his final day
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