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You're never far away from me I've had this lock of your hair now for a half a century or more I keep it in a matchbox in the pocket of my coat Saturdays I go to town just to make them laugh I learned to drive when I was 65 years old And I sit poker-straight behind the wheel Mother died of influenza when we kids were small Father never smiled again and seemed to shrink with every passing year Everybody sigh and put your hands on your hips But when I get those old songs in my head I can't keep my fingers off the keys Through my research I have found all it takes To keep the chickens laying eggs Is opera or Gershwin played at low volumes on dad's old radio One concession for the hens destined for slaughter: I read them poetry They like the Yeats the best And frankly, so do I Who wouldn't like to wake up on the Isle of Innisfree To muck about that bee-loud glade like he? Everybody sigh and put your hands on your hips Letras de cancionesWhat's good enough for chickens is plenty good enough for you and me You're never far away from me I've had this lock of your hair now for a half a century or more I keep it in a matchbox in the pocket of my coat From Letras Mania