Tackle Box

It was two shades of brown and scratched up plastic

It held extra line lures hooks and matches

With his last name engraved in brass

Right there by the handle on the top

I'd slide it out of the back of his station wagon

Lug it down the bank with my arm draggin'

I could hardly wait for him

To lift the lid on that tackle box

Cause I'd sail with him across the South Pacific

Stand beside him on the bow of that battle ship

See him kiss the ground and thank the Good Lord Jesus

And watch him run to Grandma cryin' on the dock

He opened up every time he opened up

That ole tackle box

He'd bait my hook and keep on tellin' stories

About nickel Cokes girls and sandlot glories

Pickup trucks and golden fields

Long before this town knew blacktop

I was almost ridin' with him shotgun down those dirt roads

Takin' turns on a jug of homemade shine

As he raced his buddies down through Mason Holler

Fillin' the sky with dust and kicked up rocks

He opened up every time he opened up

That ole tackle box

He's been gone twenty years tomorrow

But I'm still holdin' on to one more wish

That God above would let be borrow Grandpa

For one more afternoon and one more fish

Cause I'd sail with across the South Pacific

Stand beside him on the bow of that battle ship

See him kiss the ground and thank the Good Lord Jesus

And watch him run to Grandma cryin' on the dock

He opened up every time he opened up

That ole tackle box

Everything he loved he kept locked up

In that ole tackle box

It was two shades of brown and scratched up plastic