Tom was perhaps my favorite of all the musical storytellers and poets. His lyrics were so real and insightful and didn't dwell so much on the bad things of life. He was a genius wordsmith. He had a sense of humor that lightened even heavy topics. He was also a nice person never becoming arrogant with fame like so many other country artists. "Old dogs care about you even when you make mistakes God bless little children while they're still too young to hate" When he moved away I found my pen and copied down that line 'Bout old dogs and children and watermelon wine" "I told him I was a poet I was lookin' for the truth I do not care for horses Whiskey women or the loot I said I was a writer My soul was all on fire He looked at me And he said you are a liar" "Then you have the nerve to tell me you think that as a mother I'm not fit Well, this is just a little Peyton Place and you're all Harper Valley hypocrites No I wouldn't put you on because it really did, it happened just this way The day my mama socked it to the Harper Valley P.T.A. The day my mama socked it to the Harper Valley P.T.A."
by Faye D. Fox I was ridin the range checkin on all the cattle I was getting kinda weary from all day in the saddle I caught a whiff of the smell of cheap tobacco smoke I thought it was imagination from being tired and broke A twinge of hunger set in so I pulled out an old stale churro As my wearied eyes caught sight of an old man ridin on a burro He rode slowly toward me, saddled on my mountain footed paint His smiling face with wisdom lines inquired before he spoke, ain’t Ain’t you the one that used to wear short mini skirts back in the day Yes, I confessed but since my baby died after birth, I was never PTA I don’t know nothin about Harper Valley but I do know hypocrites And I may be old, gray, stubborn, silly, and prone to throw hissy fits But that’s the way I am and what more can I say I ain’t changed all that much even to this very day He looks at me all stern and says, Faye you are a liar His weathered face was all ablaze, it was a ragin fire You’ve changed he says, you ain’t no younger woman, you look a disaster You won’t drink older whiskey, you ride that paint not a horse that’s faster Well, I replied, aged older whiskey, faster horses, and sassy younger women so fine Can never be compared to older women, rock footed horses, and watermelon wine I looked old Tom square in the eyes and asked with statement, do you love a little baby duck A mountain stream, the sound of gentle rain, not a tornado train, and little baby calves that suck Tall grass, fishin bass, rain in May, dry June harvested hay, coffee in a cup, or a cattle herding pup So what do you like I inquired, my face all fired, writing songs, he replied, then he ran out of luck