Lotta Man (In That Little Boy)

His life is that blue bike, ball glove an' fishin' pole,
Tree-house, BB gun and band aid covered knees.
He does good deliverin' papers,
An' cuttin' grass for the neighbours,
Except for Widow Wilson: he cuts hers for free.
His little hands do a lot for a kid his age,
He puts one-tenth of his hard earned money,
In the offering plate each Sunday by his own choice.
There's a lotta man in that little boy.

Weekdays, he tries to sleep late:
Weekends, he's up at daybreak.
Him an' Roy wadin' in Cotton Creek.
That dog was like his brother:
You'd seen one, you'd see the other.
Cut one an' both of them would bleed.
Tires screamed, but that ol' truck couldn't stop.
There's the tree that he buried him under;
He made a cross from scraps of lumber,
An' on it carved: "God Bless ol' Roy."
There's a lotta man in that little boy.

There's a house, down where he goes fishin':
He told his Mom: "Those kids got nothin',
"And I don't need all these toys."
There's a lotta man.
(There's a lotta man. There's a lotta man.)
In that little boy

Похожие новости.

1. Переломаны буреломами. Край бурановый под охраною. Костерок ослаб, Не сберечь его, в яме волчьей вой. Кто упал - лежит, песню снег сложил Нам про лесосплав. 2. Утро сизое, бревна склизлые, В ледяной воде не до

Woke up this morning the border was burning my mind Things that I seen that I couldn't be leaving behind me Down in this hole in the ground there ain't nothing to

In my solitude you haunt me With reveries of days gone by In my solitude you taunt me With memories that never die I sit in my chair Filled with despair Nobody could be so sad With

(S. Cahn/Jule Styne) Oh! the weather outside is frightful But the fire is so delightful Since we've no place to go Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow It doesn't show signs

Накривши плечі згорблені кожухом неба синім, колишеться шофер у сонній лімузині. Мужчини в сірих пальтах тонуть в синяві провулка, тінь замазує панни, мов образи затерті. У склянці золотавий чай. Так хочеться опертись об край вікна