Growing Up on Steel Strings

I still see that dusty old baseball diamond

Running hard to beat the throw to first

And those autumn mornings in the quiet timber

With a cold wind doing its absolute worst

But nothing shined like Friday evening picking With that steel guitar resting

on your knees

Playing old traditional tunes

for your friends and family

Singing sweet country harmonies on the breeze

Now you're standing tall with your own young boy

Passing down the glove and the old steel slide

Watching you grow has been our greatest joy

Seeing our little man walking with pride

(oh with pride)

Three generations picking under the oak tree

(hummmm) Our legacy

playing on and on...