You probably can't see this on your CD, but the audience is laughing because Brother Bok attempted to play his cellamba like Hendrix. A great end to a great time, and what a fabulous audience! These truly were the "good ol' days" -- and for my part, I'd love to dedicate this album to these good ol' folk of Chicago. (BZ)
Daddy don’t you tell no lies
Talkin’ bout the old times ways
Daddy don’t you tell no lies
Talkin’ bout the good old days, oh yeah
Talkin’ bout the good old days
There were strawberries big as baseballs and raspberries ‘round as your arm
There were peaches big as watermelons just a-growing on that Georgia farm
And there were rows of yellow sweet corn growing in the morning light
We’d plant ‘em on a Monday morning and then eat ‘em on a Friday night
Back then nobody got in trouble and nobody got in fights
Weren’t no drinking moonshine whiskey and there were no staying out all night
Everybody worked like horses and they never stopped to take a rest
Everybody had religion and everybody done their best
Everybody was a neighbor and every neighbor was a friend
Children listened to their parents and women listened to their men
You didn’t have no trouble-makers just a-stirrin’ up the countryside
Everyone knew their places and everyone was satisfied