Old Folks - Ernestine Anderson

Everyone knows him as Old Folks

Like the seasons, he’ll come and he’ll go

Just as free as a bird and as good as his word

That’s why everybody loves him so

Always leaving his spoon in his coffee

Tucks his napkin up under his chin

And that yellow cow-pie is so mellow it’s ripe

But you needn’t be ashamed of him

Every Friday he’ll go fishing, down on his favourite lake

But he only hooks a perch or two, the whale got away

Looks like we warm the steak

Someday there’ll be no more Old Folks

What a lonesome old town this will be

Children’s voice at play, will be still for a day

The day they take the Old Folks away