A true story I was told about
What seems the longest time ago-
By those that knew and loved this man
By the name of old Billy Joe-
He lived a little down the track
On the other side of town-
Out where the soil was dry
And the grass seemed always brown-
No one went out there very much
One day his wife had died-
And very few went to the funeral too
Alone he sat at home and cried-
Ages seem to go by after that
He still lived out there alone-
Pottering in his vegetable garden
In his little timber home-
One day he received a parcel so
The postman took it out to him-
And what he found out there that day
Was way worse than simply grim-
Walking into open door he looked around
And could not believe the sight-
He just stood there feeling so ashamed
Non of this it seemed right-
There was an old bridle on the wall
A horses old collar hung above-
All the walls were of faded pine
A few pictures of the one he loved-
A rocking chair by an old fire place
It had not been lit in quite awhile-
Old magazines sat on a box
Some others neatly in a pile-
On the arm of that old rocking chair
A corn pipe that was very old-
And on the back of it there hung
A ragged rug to keep him from the cold-
Some wood was stacked by fire place
But for ages it had not been lit-
Placed ever neatly there in a stack
So very carefully it had once been split-
That old home was so untidy
As little there for a time was done-
Across his lap where he sat
Was an oldest wild duck shot gun-
A scribbled note upon the table small
A short good by is what it said-
How he missed his only friend and love in life
As for years now she'd been dead-
No body to speak of ever went out there at all
Though it was not far out along that track-
But what really gets to me is that I feel
Old billy Joe was black-
No I'm not being bad by saying so
Racism is still around today-
And I get so mad and still very sad
To have this in all honesty to say-
Nobody ever checked on him out there
And he'd done favors for many over the ages-
Out there to sit and think and feel so alone
Another story in yet more sad pages-
Together are they now for sure
But it simply did not and should not have to be-
Why this old man had to go this way
It still makes no sense to me-
What always seems to really get to me
And I think it's life's worse sin-
Are those that judge a soul on earth
By the color of their skin-
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