When father bought the farm
we sold the farm
mistook his blood for rustic charm
sold his ghost as an antique,
to the city
and kids today can't hold a spade
rest in peace your weary trades
in this world there is no place such a pity
while the barman shakes his head
and fills my glasses
we're livin' in the past
why preserve a dying craft and it's misery?
we sigh and say another modern man
one of property not land
so i'll hold out this battered hand well you listen
come sit down we're lamenting
about yesterdays sad ending
about the water in me whiskey
the brass passed off as gold
another round
we're descending into old time memry
of a day when wood was wooden
silver silver gold was gold
sweet home was home
so you say you've got a wood stove in your second home
runs off gas but looks like oak
hell it even gives off smoke and glowing embers
there's a quilt hung on the wall reads home sweet home
below some wise words from thoreau
and they call me throwback when i cry remember
come sit down we're lamenting
about yesterdays sad ending about the water in me whiskey
the brass passed off as gold
another round
we're descending into old time memry
of a day when wood was wooden
silver silver gold was gold
sweet home was home
son these tools are artifacts
endangered species left it's tracks
lock me up behind plastic glass in the city
cause there's no going back for me
this antiques rustic eulogy
shall be sold as folk artistry such a pity
but i'll never understand why they all long to use those hands
to build a stead that will always stand in old time country
but settle for white rooms and hollow doors
paper ceilings padded floors
luxury boxes where your stored in what was country
come sit down we're lamenting
about yesterdays sad ending
about the water in me whiskey
the brass passed off as gold
another round
we're descending into old time memry
of a day when wood was wooden silver silver gold was gold
another round
We're lamenting about yesterdays sad ending
about the water in your whiskey
the brass passed off as gold
another round
we're descending into old time memry
of a day when wood was wooden
silver silver gold was gold sweet home was home




Lyrics submitted by ricecracker420

Ol time memr'y song meanings
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6 Comments

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  • 0
    General Commenta few corrections, mostly just me nit-picking:

    line 12: why preserve a dieing craft and it's misery?
    line 13: we sigh and say another modern man
    line 16: come sit down where the men tell
    line 29: below some wise words from thoreau
    line 31: come sit down where the men tell
    line 44: shall be sold as folk artistry such a pity
    line 50: come sit down where the men tell

    at least this is what it sounds like he's saying to me, i'm not erik so i guess i can't be sure that i'm 100% right.
    jthizion November 28, 2007   Link
  • 0
    General Commenti'm actually pretty sure the chorus goes:
    "come sit down, we're lamenting."

    and not
    "come sit down where the men tell"

    lamenting actually means expressing grief or regret. which i think fits quite well in the song.

    but "...where the men tell" could work.

    It's just when i try to hear that, i keep hearing a "-ting" sound towards the end of the word.

    idk idk.
    briannapageon May 22, 2008   Link
  • 0
    General CommentIt is lamenting.
    stopbeingsocoolon June 04, 2008   Link
  • 0
    General Commentalright finally fixed, i posted these lyrics becuse i coudn't find any and wrote it while i was listening to the song for like the third time
    now it has to be one of my favorites
    ricecracker420on November 17, 2008   Link
  • 0
    My InterpretationOK... here's my line by line -- but I could be way off:

    When dad passed away, we sold the family farm.
    We sold the land that he toiled away on for housing developments to be built.
    Our generation are not farmers.
    Farming itself is a dying tradition.
    There really is no place for it in today's society.
    While the bartender fills my glass, he says we're living in the past
    Why preserve the antiquated tradition of farming? End it's misery.
    We sigh and say that our generation no longer values land as anything more than property.

    We're lamenting about yesterday...

    So you say you've got this fancy new fake wood stove in your second home.
    They really designed that sucker to mimic an actual antique wood stove.
    And then you've got up this home sweet home banner, along with a quote from Thoreau. And they call *ME* a throwback when I cry remember??? Essentially, you've created this fake environment in your second home to make it seem quaint and rustic as your way of reminiscing about the past. But I'm looking at our fields and rangelands as my reminder of the past -- a past which is ever fading away by an encroaching city.

    Son, these tools (farm tools?) are artifacts... no longer useful, obsolete.
    We (the farmers?) are an endangered species leaving our tracks.
    Even we are getting locked up in the urban environment of the city.
    Once that happens, there's no going back.
    Farming is essentially dead.
    Except when it's sold for its kitschy/touristy values (wine tasting, dude ranches, etc.)

    But I'll never understand why they'll always keep building houses out in the country for the people who want to get out of the city -- but what they're really building is cheap tract housing. Big, fancy boxes where you are stored in what was once the agriculturally dominant country.
    plasticmirthon May 18, 2010   Link
  • 0
    General CommentWow.....
    Kmac2464on December 25, 2010   Link

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