When I look through my faded photographs Old-time memories flood my heart Here's a picture of Daddy with his guitar Ah, the love that it imparts Daddy bought a phonograph one year We called it a "talk machine" He recorded us singing on old 78s Hearing ourselves was really keen Daddy always had several instruments And urged all the kids to play A self-taught musician, we learned from him And we each pick a little to this day On the porch in the evenings after supper We would pick and sing by the hour Oh, what I'd give if I could hear again Daddy playing Wildwood Flower He would sit there on the top most step Picking the mandolin or the guitar At the same time, playing his harmonica Held firmly in place with a wire One day, Junior bought a recorder I wish we still had those tapes we made Those reels are still spinning in my heart For, unlike pictures, memories don't fade If the Good Lord allows entertainment Somewhere in that Great Beyond Daddy's probably sitting on the top step Picking Sweet Violets and Jolé Blon Thinking about that old-time music Makes my old heart ache, I find When times were bad, we made it good In our family that was musically inclined Kathleen McCoy Eldridge© February 3, 2009 All Rights Reserved Remembering Daddy's birthday on February 12th.

Scrap tutorial from Mamen.

Photo of the young man in the top image is John/Heavens Gates

John, Thanks so much for being such a good sport,
and allowing me to use your picture!  S.E.M.P.