| One September morning when I was five
|
| My daddy said, «Son, rise from your bed.»
|
| I thought, I must be dreaming, it’s still dark outside
|
| He said, «Son if you fall behind you’ll never get ahead
|
| Here’s your little brown cowboy shirt, put it on Here’s your little brown cowboy pants, put 'em on Here’s your little brown shoes, can you tie them yourself?
|
| Get into the car, we’re gone!»
|
| We drove, it seemed like forever,
|
| Further than I’d ever been away from home
|
| Then my daddy stopped the car, and he turned to me He said, «Son it’s time to make us proud of you,
|
| It’s time to do what’s right
|
| Gonna have to learn to work hard»
|
| I said, «Work? |
| What are you talking about?
|
| You’re not gonna leave me here, are you?»
|
| He said «Yes I am!»
|
| And drove off into the morning light
|
| For a while I stood there, on the sidewalk
|
| A Roy Rogers lunch pail in my hand
|
| Then I heard sweet children’s voices calling
|
| And I began to understand
|
| They said, «Four eyes! |
| Look like you’re still sleeping!»
|
| «Four eyes! |
| Look like you’re dead!»
|
| «Four eyes! |
| Where have you been keeping yourself?»
|
| «Look like you been whupped upside the head.» |