Red hands as big as Ulster Stubble on his chin We wrestle on the front room floor And his beard would burn my skin When Dickie Davies told us That Lester's horse had won I'd run along behind him And he 'd shield me from the sun With the money from their winnings They'd sing and drink till dawn And I got to stay up late at night And put their records on Dusty Springfield, dusty case He kept the music in Bobby Darin, Mack The Knife And I love that i can't win I'd pile them high, the 45's That he would make me chose When Patsy Cline was crazy And Guy Mitchell sang the blues But when i wasn't looking The music moved away Hank Williams never came around Ans Sinatra wouldn't stay And talking to the old man Was filled with hurt and pain So Johnny Ray would spend his nights "Just walking in the rain" I'd pile them high, the 45's That he would make me chose When Patsy Cline was crazy And Guy Mitchell sang the blues Now i, m sitting here on Island Hill And both of them have gone But on the wind i hear him laugh "Son, put the records on" If i could have just one more night I know that i'd still chose When Patsy Cline was crazy And Guy Mitchell sang the blues