I went down the road to see my old man this morning Sat down beside his bed He woke up and said, "Son, good morning" I put a pillow behind his head We talked about him and all his friends We talked about now and what he did back then We talked about life, we talked about death Then he grabbed me by the arm and said "Son, don't bury me in no pinstriped suit On my feet put my working boots On my back a blue collared shirt An old pair of coveralls and a fistful of dirt Son, all I ask of you, is don't bury me in no pinstriped suit" Born and raised on the hard side of a steel town With burning fires and mountains of black coal All alone is where he lives now With calloused hands and a broken heart of gold He still talks about time that he never spent And all the angry words he wished he'd never said And all the little things in life he regrets He still grabs me by the arm and says "Son, don't bury me in no pinstriped suit On my feet put my working boots On my back a blue collared shirt An old pair of coveralls and a fistful of dirt And son, all I ask of you, is don't bury me in no pinstriped suit" Son, all I ask of you Don't bury me in no pinstriped suit