I can
still see my ma been
over that old washpot
And it's a dark old cold and
I freeze on the spot
Pa eatin' them flapjacks
and yellin' for more
The youngins makin' track
s across ma's clean floor
But all them good times
are past and gone now
All the good times are gone
Where you can look for a mile
down a winding railroad track
See a train a -leaving and hear
one a -coming back
And with a cloud of blue
up above your head
Like something from a storybook
that you once read
But all them good times are
past and gone now
All the good times are gone
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for a poor
boy to do
And down on that river,
when them biggums make their run
The cane poles so thick,
they're not blot out that sun
You smell that coffee boiling
in that old tin can
That hot grease of popping
in a frying pan
But all them good times
are past and gone now
All the good times are gone
You wait for a dark night thinking
everybody's asleep
And you slip across this field
and you're bare feet
I shot you on glass and
you got a pain in your rump
But you got that melon, boy,
and it's bigger than a stump
But all them good times
are past and gone now
All the good times are gone
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for home for the dead