An old friend of mine

I’m walking down the power line I think I heard a friend mine off in the distance I could hear a friend of mine named Bob, Bob White I ain’t heard him in a long time when I was a kid I heard him all the time. Now I hardly ever hear him at all. But he’s singing and telling me about his covey and where he’s at. It’s a friendly sound from days gone by oh how time flies well I don’t know what happened to them but there were plenty when I was a kid growing up  me and Kenny would hunt quail we didn’t use a dog much now I wish we had,  it we did flush them out and shoot them when we could so now years, decades later I hear again that lonesome Bob White across this pine tree forest into the meadow below, along the power line, I go walking down the road of time until I ran into that old friend of mine, you never know who’s down the road that’s why I try to go as often as I can, I’m getting to be an old man it’s not easy like when I was a kid when me and Kenny would go and walk the fields looking for that covey which was flush as always we’d make that clatter and the quail would scatter, we weren’t always on cue but other times we’d drop us a few. It was fun in those days but something has happened to Bob White since then, I think they are trying to reestablish them now but there are so few places for the birds to be like the deer who die on the road every day in front of me.  Yeah it’s a different world when I was young the old timers would say how good it was back then, now I’m an old timer and I don’t know how their’s was but mine sure was better. I loved it then! And I think about it now as I ponder that  Bob White I heard just now.
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Country folk fiddle and banjo nostalgic