This is the story of Old Man Jenkins
Old, yes, but he never felt that way
If being young meant being corrupt, he’d have no part
Stubborn, he wouldn’t change his ways
He would simply avoid this new perverse world
To keep himself in the good ol’ days
The days when neighbors looked out for each other
When you knew your mailman’s name
When men held the door for ladies
And success didn’t have to mean fame
He reminisced of days when a living was honest
When families had a father and a mother
When talking in person was the best was to talk
And one shirt was as good as another
But oh how they teased him,
They’d say “He’s just an old man”
And they’d compare his brain
To a lone grain of sand
They said he wasn’t modern or up with the times
They said he was ignorant and out of his mind
They would try to make him angry
Hounding him over and over again
But Old Man Jenkins was the gentlest of souls
And returned only a wrinkled grin
You see, he wasn’t mad or crazy
And he minded not their scorn
He had been storing up a better treasure
Since the very day he was born
After he left this world, they realized
They saw how bad they were wrong
They longed to tell him they were sorry
But the time for that had come and gone
It may be myth, but one once said
And others have repeated it since then
That the gentle soul of Old Man Jenkins
Smiled on them with a wrinkled grin.
Feb 6, 2010
Feb 6, 2010 at 7:57 PM UTC
This is the story of Old Man Jenkins
Old, yes, but he never felt that way
If being young meant being corrupt, he’d have no part
Stubborn, he wouldn’t change his ways
He would simply avoid this new perverse world
To keep himself in the good ol’ days
The days when neighbors looked out for each other
When you knew your mailman’s name
When men held the door for ladies
And success didn’t have to mean fame
He reminisced of days when a living was honest
When families had a father and a mother
When talking in person was the best was to talk
And one shirt was as good as another
But oh how they teased him,
They’d say “He’s just an old man”
And they’d compare his brain
To a lone grain of sand
They said he wasn’t modern or up with the times
They said he was ignorant and out of his mind
They would try to make him angry
Hounding him over and over again
But Old Man Jenkins was the gentlest of souls
And returned only a wrinkled grin
You see, he wasn’t mad or crazy
And he minded not their scorn
He had been storing up a better treasure
Since the very day he was born
After he left this world, they realized
They saw how bad they were wrong
They longed to tell him they were sorry
But the time for that had come and gone
It may be myth, but one once said
And others have repeated it since then
That the gentle soul of Old Man Jenkins
Smiled on them with a wrinkled grin.
Notes: Inspired by my grandfather and the generation that grew up in the Great Depression and fought in the second World War.