The story behind this song
He returned the wallet, re-gifted the cologne, and answered every gift with 'fifty's just a number, kid' before mowing the lawn alone. Same truck, same boots, sawdust on the flannel, coffee burnt exactly the way he likes it.
He says he needs nothing — meanwhile his one-liners run the family. For the dad at fifty who can't return this one.
Lyrics
Another gift receipt, huh, Dad?
Not this year.
Not this year.
You returned the wallet, kept the box,
re-gifted that cologne,
said fifty's just a number, kid —
then mowed the lawn alone.
Same truck, same boots, same Saturday —
the rattle in the dash you call a song.
re-gifted that cologne,
said fifty's just a number, kid —
then mowed the lawn alone.
Same truck, same boots, same Saturday —
the rattle in the dash you call a song.
You say you need nothing.
Funny — you gave us everything.
Funny — you gave us everything.
Here's to the man who needs nothing —
who worked the years and never kept the score,
whose one-liners run this family,
whose handshake built the door.
You can't return this one, old man —
it's already yours.
who worked the years and never kept the score,
whose one-liners run this family,
whose handshake built the door.
You can't return this one, old man —
it's already yours.
You showed up early, stayed past late,
fixed whatever we dragged home,
the smell of sawdust on your flannel,
coffee burnt the way you want.
You never asked for thanks out loud.
So here it is — turned up.
fixed whatever we dragged home,
the smell of sawdust on your flannel,
coffee burnt the way you want.
You never asked for thanks out loud.
So here it is — turned up.
You say you need nothing.
You gave us everything.
You gave us everything.
Here's to the man who needs nothing —
who worked the years and never kept the score,
whose one-liners run this family,
whose handshake built the door.
You can't return this one, old man —
it's already yours.
who worked the years and never kept the score,
whose one-liners run this family,
whose handshake built the door.
You can't return this one, old man —
it's already yours.
Fifty years from now they'll quote you
at tables you'll never see —
"measure twice," "we're burning daylight" —
the gospel according to Dad.
at tables you'll never see —
"measure twice," "we're burning daylight" —
the gospel according to Dad.
Here's to the man who needs nothing —
who worked the years and never kept the score,
whose one-liners run this family,
whose handshake built the door.
You can't return this one, old man —
it's already yours.
who worked the years and never kept the score,
whose one-liners run this family,
whose handshake built the door.
You can't return this one, old man —
it's already yours.
No receipt this year, Dad.
No returns.
No returns.
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