Letras
He was a buck knife man
He loved country music and sitting in his old deer stand
He worked at the plant for forty years
He said, "I don't like it but I do the best I can"
Oh, don't the clock keep a-ticking
It's a run for the roses until you punch your ticket
And now I'm staring out the window at the stars tonight
Holding daddy's pocket knife
He took splinters from my hands
Cut open presents and tomatoes off the vine
Whittled on the porch just like his dad
And when I cast in a tree, he cut my fishing line
Oh, don't the clock keep a-ticking
It's a run for the roses until you punch your ticket
Oh, and I'm staring out the window at the stars tonight
Holding daddy's pocket knife
It's a sentimental thing
Worth more than gold to me
'Cause when I hold it in my hand
I feel closer to the man
Oh, don't the clock keep a-ticking
It's a run for the roses until you punch your ticket
And now I'm staring out the window at the stars tonight
Holding daddy's pocket knife
Holding daddy's pocket knife
Make me feel like I'm holding daddy's hand in mine