I was once an old '36 Ford truck driven by a very well loved man
who's face lit up so brightly carrying his tackle box of bate n' hooks
with his grandchildren by his side, and fishing poles in his hand
I loved the sound of their sweet voices when they'd climb onto my back
I carried them safely home, along with the salmon held inside their sacks
I'm very old and rusty now, but I think of them on summer days
as the sun glimmers in the distance on familiar seashore bays,
while listening to great grandchildren laughing so happily at play.