When I look through my faded photographs
Old-time memories flood my heart
Here's a picture of Daddy with his guitar
Ah, the love that it imparts
                                


Daddy bought a phonograph one year
We called it a "talk machine"
He recorded us singing on old 78s
Hearing ourselves was really keen



Daddy always had several instruments
And urged all the kids to play
A self-taught musician, we learned from him
And we each pick a little to this day



On the porch in the evenings after supper
We would pick and sing by the hour
Oh, what I'd give if I could hear again
Daddy playing Wildwood Flower



He would sit there on the top most step
Picking the mandolin or the guitar
At the same time, playing his harmonica
Held firmly in place with a wire



One day, Junior bought a recorder
I wish we still had those tapes we made
Those reels are still spinning in my heart
For, unlike pictures, memories don't fade



If the Good Lord allows entertainment
Somewhere in that Great Beyond
Daddy's probably sitting on the top step
Picking Sweet Violets and Jolé Blon



Thinking about that old-time music
Makes my old heart ache, I find
When times were bad, we made it good
In our family that was musically inclined



Kathleen McCoy Eldridge©
February 3, 2009
All Rights Reserved


Remembering Daddy's birthday on February 12th.