My Whittlin' Stick
(Lyrics by Harold A. Pickett; music by Scott Ryan)
People I know are takin' trips
To faraway places and scenes,
And to judge by the cards they send me,
They're livin' like kings and queens.
I reckon that I could do the same,
But I get more of a kick
Out of settin' at home in my own back yard
Jist whittlin' my whittlin' stick.
There ain't much sense in dashin' off
And leavin' the best behind,
But you go ahead if you want to,
And I'll stay at home and find
More peace and pure contentment
On the bank of a lazy creek
With a fishin' pole an' a can o' worms
And a good soft whittlin' stick.
Friends o' mine who're full of zip
And try to make a big showin'
Think it's a crime and a shame that I'm
So pokey and easy-goin'.
But when them fellers are laid to rest
Under blankets green and thick,
I'll still be a-settin' on my holler log
A-whittlin' my whittlin' stick!
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