| Well old Bob hasn’t got much but he values his boots
|
| He values the time he spends growin' flowers
|
| He still loves his babies that grew to be men
|
| He recalls all the days 'n' nights and the hours
|
| When he and his woman worked on the land
|
| In the heat and the dry, in the cold and the wet
|
| He still picks her a rose and his old heart still races
|
| She’s still the most beautiful girl that he’s met
|
| And you ask is he happy… and you ask is he happy???
|
| He’s got wrinkles from smiling, he feels lucky and free
|
| And he knows what it means to live here in the sunshine
|
| He’s got wrinkles…
|
| He walks with Amelia down to the store
|
| With a little cane basket for the bread and the daily Sun
|
| Still hand in hand like babes in the meadows
|
| And young faces turn
|
| Love is so beautiful, it can be so deep
|
| And a man is a king when he has his own princess
|
| Bob wears no crown, no long flowing robe
|
| But there in his mind he still rides on his black stallion
|
| Then a cold winter came, and Bob was alone
|
| His beautiful princess had flown with the angels
|
| He faded so quickly, the man became old
|
| And the wandering dew soon covered the roses
|
| First just a cane, then a strong stick for walking
|
| Then just a chair with a grey old man dying
|
| All that he lived for was always beside him
|
| So Bob left in peace, to join his lady
|
| And you ask is he happy… and you ask is he happy???
|
| He had wrinkles from smiling
|
| He felt lucky and free
|
| And he knew what it meant to live here in the sunshine
|
| He had wrinkles… |