tackle box

it was two shades of brown

scratched-up plastic

it held extra line

lures

hooks

and matches

and 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'

and 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 battleship

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 old tackle box

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

'bout nickel cokes

girls

and sandlot glories

pickup trucks and peanut 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 old tackle box

he's been gone twenty years tomorrow

and i'm still holdin' on to one wish

that god above could let me borrow grandpa

for one more afternoon and one more fish

and i'd sail with him across the south pacific

stand beside him on the bow of that battleship

see him kiss the ground and thank the good lord jesus

and watch him run to grandma

cryin' on the docks

he'd open up

every time he opened up

that old tackle box

yeah i sure loved every time he opened up

that old tackle box

it was two shades of brown scratched up plastic