This man in my home is a tired old man

And since I've known him he

worked hard all his life long

Why he'd leave for work way

before the sun would come about

And he'd come home with the

moon pushing him to the ground

Yea this man, this man is a hard working old man


He digs deep trenches
with picks and shovels

and digs up trees and gathers debris
he snapped them twigs with a breeze


Yea this man, this man is a hard working old man

He lifts big stones with

his hands and muscles
and busted them stones
with hammers and chisels

and couldn't wait for
that 12 o'clock whistle


Yea this man, this man is a hard working old man

And he done told me

he can not go on anymore

I see his tears he tried to hide

from his job he worked with pride
and his big hands open wide
full of blisters deep in side


Yea this man, this man is a hard working old man


And now I have to say
this man is my old man
and my home is his home

and here he will remain
until his final day