Old Wood Shavings

1. The old man

Sitting in his rocking chair

A seasoned edge before him

Old wood shavings lying there

He told me of the old ways

As he whittled with his knife

And with each stroke his words helped carve

The pathway of my life

2. A young man of the mountains

He earned an honest wage

Working in the cotton mills

'Til he reached the mellowed age

But when I touch the image

Of his old and wrinkled hands 

It's not a mill-man that I see

Just a kind and loving friend


3.He was a master craftsman

And a patient engineer

In the workshop of compassion

Where he labored through the years

He shared with me his wisdom

And he sang with me life's song

And pointed out the ways

Of understanding right from wrong

4. Now with the passing seasons

Other duties called my name

My time with him diminished

But the bond remained the same

So I packed up all my music

And the stories he would tell

And went searching for some answers

In a life of wishing wells


Chorus: Old wood shavings

They're falling on the floor

Another conversation of 

The boy and his mentor

Old wood shavings

Will soon be swept away

To sow the seeds of restrospect

On the fields of younger days