Lotta Man (In That Little Boy)

His life is that blue bike, ball glove an' fishin' pole Tree-house, BB gun and band aid covered knees He does good deliverin' papers An' cuttin' grass for the neighbours Except for Widow Wilson: he cuts hers for free His little hands do a lot for a kid his age He puts one-tenth of his hard earned money In the offering plate each Sunday by his own choice There's a lotta man in that little boy Weekdays, he tries to sleep late: Weekends, he's up at daybreak Him an' Roy wadin' in Cotton Creek That dog was like his brother: You'd seen one, you'd see the other Cut one an' both of them would bleed Tires screamed, but that ol' truck couldn't stop There's the tree that he buried him under; He made a cross from scraps of lumber An' on it carved: "God Bless ol' Roy." There's a lotta man in that little boy There's a house, down where he goes fishin': He told his Mom: "Those kids got nothin' "And I don't need all these toys." There's a lotta man (There's a lotta man. There's a lotta man.) In that little boy