Tackle Box

[Verse 1] It was two shades of brown, scratched-up plastic It held extra line, lures, hooks, and matches And his last name engraved in black Right there by the handle on the top I'd slide it out of the back of his station wagon Lug it down the bank with my arm dragging And I could hardly wait for him To lift the lid on that tackle box [Chorus] Cause I'd sail with him across the South Pacific Stand beside him on the bow of that battleship See him kiss the ground and thank the good Lord Jesus And watch him run to Grandma, crying on the dock He opened up, every time he opened up That old tackle box [Verse 2] He'd bait my hook and keep on telling stories 'Bout nickel Cokes, girls, and sandlot glories Pickup trucks and golden fields Long before this town knew blacktop [Chorus] I was almost riding with him shotgun down those dirt roads Taking turns on a jug of homemade shine As he raced his buddies down through Mason Holler Filling the sky with dust and kicked up rocks He opened up, every time he opened up That old tackle box [Verse 3] He's been gone twenty years tomorrow And I'm still holding on to one wish That God above could let me borrow Grandpa For one more afternoon and one more fish [Chorus] And I'd sail with him across the South Pacific Stand beside him on the bow of that battleship See him kiss the ground and thank the good Lord Jesus And watch him run to Grandma, crying on the dock He'd open up, every time he opened up That old tackle box [Outro] Everything he loved he kept locked up in that old tackle box It was two shades of brown scratched up plastic