“The Ballad of Old Sunny Lucas”
by Nate Marshall

It is true my boy, I was once like you-
young and strapping, except handsome too. 
I wandered and gambled, the present my sole concern,
but age and wisdom walk hand in hand, from mistakes I did learn.

When I turned eighteen a letter came for me.
Bright and white, it read “conscription” and had the seal of our fine country.
Momma wept like the willows after reading what it was for,
Uncle Sam needed help and I shipped out to make war.

My bones ache I tell you son;
my life’s been lived, my time is done.
And I leave my regrets with the setting sun.
Like a dream the years came, like a dream they are gone.

When I made it home safe I found work on the docks,
dug trenches for pipes and chiseled rock,
dug graves for a while, scrubbed floors and fixed cars.
Working hard for little pay’s how this country was made.

For a while I drove a truck, to the girls’ college delivered meats.
Each week I’d go early, would’ve done it for free.
Those cloistered young ladies would casually dress in front of me;
they sure loved to show off, trust me, I fancied to see.
 
But my bones ache I tell you son;
my life’s been lived, my time is done.
And I leave my regrets with the setting sun.
Like a dream the years came, like a dream they are gone.

Boy I still recall the first time I saw the sea,
those clover fields, our ancient oak trees,
the gentle snow on Christmas eve.
But fields forget, for to time they’re not bound,
and I’m sure all our old oak trees are long dead and torn down.

Oh then life changed so quickly when I met Miss Margaret McGee.
On my knee I said, “dear Maggie, won’t you marry me?”
She said, “get up, don’t you see we were meant to be?”
We made a house into a home; God gave us children three.

But my sweet Margaret died a long time ago,
and all the kids are grown up far, far away from home.
I thank you, dear boy, for lending your ear to me;
remember, though suffering is great, in time we’re all free.   

Yes my bones ache I tell you son;
my life’s been lived, my time is done.
And I leave my regrets with the setting sun.
Like a dream the years came, like a dream they are gone. 

Like a dream the years came, like a dream they are gone.