Lyrics

The Old Fisherman
I remember younger hands that held me as we walked.
To the sea from dry land upon the jetty rock.
He’d take my pole, cast my bait, mend my fishing line.
Memories washed over me from another time.

Hands put to labor to his raise his family.
Hands that cleared a path for the man I came to be.

His hands are old and broken now they can’t tie line to hook.
From this old fisherman I see all that I took.
I take his pole cast his bait mend his fishing line.
I know the possibility this is our last time.

Hands put to labor to his raise his family.
Hands that cleared a path for the man I came to be.

His hands rubbed my back and neck and washed away my fears.
Corrected me when I was wrong then wiped away my tears.

Watching this old fisherman I see that time does fly.
His days are growing shorter now and I begin to cry.
If I had one last wish, I know that wish would be.
This old fisherman would pull one last fish from the sea.
This old fisherman would pull one last fish from the sea.