Hazel dickens

As you walk down the street – how often do you meet Some poor man whose life has life had grown old? His aged form is bent – in his pocket not a cent And for shelter knows not where to go See that...

She's lost a lot of herself that time cannot replace Bits and pieces of herself gone without a trace She's been holding on to everything that happened to be there She's all used up and forgotten and...

Call him drunken ira hayes, He won't answer any more; Not the whiskey drinkin' indian, Not the marine who went to war. Gather 'round me people, There's a story I would tell About a brave young indian...

There's a path that leads back through my memories And how often I've walked it these days Where I find sweet piece among the flowers On the grassy banks beyond the river bend But it's only a memory...

I said goodbye to that poor little mining town With just a few old clothes that had made the rounds I knew I was leaving a lot of things that were good But I thought I'd make a break while I still...