red hands as big as Ulster
stubble on his chin
we wrestle on the front room floor
and his beard would burn my skin
when Dickie Davies told us
that Lester's horse had won
I'd run along behind him
and he 'd shield me from the sun
with the money from their winnings
they'd sing and drink till dawn
and I got to stay up late at night
and put their records on
Dusty Springfield, dusty case
he kept the music in
Bobby Darin, Mack The Knife
and I love that i can't win
I'd pile them high, the 45's
that he would make me chose
when Patsy Cline was crazy
and Guy Mitchell sang the blues
but when i wasn't looking
the music moved away
Hank Williams never came around
ans Sinatra wouldn't stay
and talking to the old man
was filled with hurt and pain
so Johnny Ray would spend his nights
"just walking in the rain"
I'd pile them high, the 45's
that he would make me chose
when Patsy Cline was crazy
and Guy Mitchell sang the blues
now i, m sitting here on Island Hill
and both of them have gone
but on the wind i hear him laugh
"son, put the records on"
if i could have just one more night
i know that i'd still chose
when Patsy Cline was crazy
and Guy Mitchell sang the blues
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
