| And I was just a kid
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| Granddad told me, «Son, this world’s a-changing fast
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| One that I grew up in, Lord
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| Seems like it just ain’t gonna last»
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| Said, «I feel a storm a-coming
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| The winds of change are blowing strong
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| Son, I’m afraid when the good old boys age out
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| The good old days are gone»
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| It wasn’t twenty years ago
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| Hard work was part of the American brand
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| Now it seems like folks are working awful hard
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| To do as little as they can
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| Since when did all the grinders and believers
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| Become the cause the cause of all that’s wrong?
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| And I’m afraid when the good old boys age out
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| The good old days are gone
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| Here’s to the hand that swings the hammer
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| Pours the concrete, bends the steel
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| To the hand that steers the wheel out on the tractor
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| To the soldiers in the field
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| Oh, everything they do ain’t worth nothing
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| If we don’t pass it on
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| And I’m afraid when all the good old boys age out
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| The good old days are gone |