The rope on the swing and the pine tree is rotten The old climbin' tree house has long been forgotten The ones who were raised here don't come any more And all blue tomorrow is here at my door. These hard workin' hands now calloused with age The lines on my face are a well written page My footsteps are feeble and I can't hardly see For old blue tomorrow done caught up with me. --- Instrumental --- The hair of my head is white as the snow And so many loved ones have gone on before But I won't be alone as I make my last stand For old blue tomorrow is holdin' my hand. The sun soon no longer will shine on my face The bushes and bramble will take this old place And wait for the doorway, wait for the call For old blue tomorrow has won after all. Old blue tomorrow has won after all...