In the Wintertime when the races run And you spend some shop time with your son Cutting and shaping a block o' pine Teaching him how to cut close to the line
The wind is high the air is cold The boy is young You're not quite old The kerosene heater stinks but it's warm The radio calls for a possible storm
In the snug little shop that you want him to love There is time that is passing A gift from above That neither of you will ever forget That neither of you will ever forget
The bandsawing done the sanding begins You watch as your ten year old sands while he grins Only a ten year old grins while he sands He stops for a moment and looks at his hands
Then back to the block of wood that he's shaped Then back to his hands And a concept is shaped And a smile replaces that wonderful grin When a Dad sees that smile a Dad starts to grin
In the snug little shop that you want him to love There is time that is passing A gift from above That neither of you will ever forget That neither of you will ever forget
Regards,
Tom Watson
tjwatson1ATcomcastDOTnet (real email)