Bumpa's Tractor
The year was 1974
We sat beneath the camper door
Me a ripe old age of 10
My dad and I upnorth again
I laid in the grass, my coat was my pillow
My dad whittled whistles from twigs of willow
Without looking up he said you know John
This may be the last trip we go alone on
What he said I may have misunderstood
But as the years past by they were made good
As children it's funny the things that distract us
For me it was girls and basketball practice
then there came college so much to do
We made trips upnorth but never just us two
It's been twenty years since our talk that day
And my dad was right, but not in a bad way
I sit in this truck holding back tears and laughter
Watching dad and my son riding Bumba's Tractor
