| «How old do you think I am?» |
| he said
|
| I said, Well, I didn’t know
|
| He said, «I turned 65 about 11 months ago»
|
| I was sittin' in Miami pourin' blended whiskey down
|
| When this old gray black gentleman was cleanin' up the lounge
|
| There wasn’t anyone around 'cept this old man and me
|
| The guy who ran the bar was watchin' 'Ironsides' on TV
|
| Uninvited, he sat down and opened up his mind
|
| On old dogs and children and watermelon wine
|
| «Ever had a drink of watermelon wine?» |
| he asked
|
| He told me all about it, though I didn’t answer back
|
| «Ain't but three things in this world that’s worth a solitary dime
|
| But old dogs and children and watermelon wine»
|
| He said, «Women think about theyselves, when menfolk ain’t around
|
| And friends are hard to find when they discover that you’re down»
|
| He said, «I tried it all when I was young and in my natural prime
|
| Now it’s old dogs and children and watermelon wine»
|
| Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes
|
| God bless little children while they’re still too young to hate
|
| When he moved away I found my pen and copied down that line
|
| 'Bout old dogs and children and watermelon wine
|
| I had to catch a plane up to Atlanta that next day
|
| As I left for my room I saw him pickin' up my change
|
| That night I dreamed in peaceful sleep of shady summertime
|
| Of old dogs and children and watermelon wine |