CHORUS:
You can see him playing every night
In the halo of his back porch light
Singing 'bout the folks he knew and the places he had seen
When he drank too much, his songs got slow
His eyes got red, and his voice got low
Singing 'bout some girl he said he loved in New Orleans
Everybody called him old man Tom; He owned the house next door
An old retired army man, a veteran of three wars
A fisherman philosopher holding court down by the creek
He never forgot your name, and he never failed to speak
I bet he'd talk to doomsday, and never tell the same tale twice
Kicked back in an old green lawn chair just dispensing his advice
“It's the trip not the destination, boy. I know because I've been
Learn to play that guitar, son. You'll always have a friend.”
REPEAT CHORUS
He squeezed life out of every second. Hell, he'd been all 'round the world
He had all kinds of treasures, said he'd loved all kinds of girls
But the one he loved the most was the one who got away
“I don't give up that easy, boy. I'll get her back some day.”
REPEAT CHORUS
I came home from school one day and found out he had gone
He left in quite a hurry, gave a message to my mom
Said “Sorry I couldn't say good-bye, but I couldn't miss my chance
They tell me that her husband died. I'm off to find romance.”
And I think about old man Tom every time I go down to New Orleans
I remember every thing he told me. Now I know just what he means
Like how to keep life simple like an old familiar song
But if it all gets too familiar, make it up as you go along