Bobby Bare - All The Good Times Are Past And Gone lyrics
[Bobby Bare - All The Good Times Are Past And Gone lyrics]
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for a poor boy to do
I can still see my mama
Bent over that ol' washpot
And it's so doggone cold you could
Nearly freeze on the spot
And pa eating them flapjacks
And yelling for more
And the kids making tracks
Across mama's clean floor
But all them good times are past and gone now
All the good times are gone
Well you could look for miles
Down a winding railroad track
And see train a leaving and
Hear one coming back
And with a cloud of blue up over your head
It's like something from a storybook
That you once read
But all them good times are past and gone now
All the good times are gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for a poor boy to do
And go down on that river when
The bigguns make their run
And the cane poles grow so thick
They block up the sun
Just smell that coffee boiling in
An old tin can
And that hot grease popping in the frying pan
But all them good times are past and gone now
All them good times are gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for a poor boy to do
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for a poor boy to do
I can still see my mama
Bent over that ol' washpot
And it's so doggone cold you could
Nearly freeze on the spot
And pa eating them flapjacks
And yelling for more
And the kids making tracks
Across mama's clean floor
But all them good times are past and gone now
All the good times are gone
Well you could look for miles
Down a winding railroad track
And see train a leaving and
Hear one coming back
And with a cloud of blue up over your head
It's like something from a storybook
That you once read
But all them good times are past and gone now
All the good times are gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for a poor boy to do
And go down on that river when
The bigguns make their run
And the cane poles grow so thick
They block up the sun
Just smell that coffee boiling in
An old tin can
And that hot grease popping in the frying pan
But all them good times are past and gone now
All them good times are gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for a poor boy to do
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times