Grandpas stand

Verse 1

November morning, frost on the windshield,

Two old thermoses sitting on the dash,

Grandpa’s hands wrapped around that steering wheel,

Said, “Son, don’t worry, we’ll get there fast.”

His old truck smelled like coffee and cedar,

Moon hanging low over the pines,

He’d been taking me hunting since I was little,

Said, “Today, that first buck might be mine.”

Chorus

We were sitting in Grandpa’s stand,

Watching the woods wake up,

Listening to the wind move through the leaves,

Waiting on our luck.

He’d whisper, “Son, be patient,

Let the woods come to you,”

I thought he was teaching me to hunt,

But he was teaching me more than that too.

Verse 2

Sun came up through the hardwood branches,

Orange light on the morning fog,

He pointed out tracks beside the creek bed,

Told me stories ’bout every fallen log.

Then around nine, we heard the footsteps,

Slow and steady through the leaves,

My heart started pounding like a hammer,

Grandpa just smiled and looked at me.

Chorus

We were sitting in Grandpa’s stand,

Watching the woods wake up,

Listening to the wind move through the leaves,

Waiting on our luck.

He’d whisper, “Son, be patient,

Let the woods come to you,”

I thought he was teaching me to hunt,

But he was teaching me more than that too.

Bridge

Years went by like seasons do,

That little boy grew up,

Grandpa got a little slower,

But he’d still climb that hill with me.

Now there’s an empty seat beside me,

And his old rifle hangs at home,

But every time November comes around,

I swear I don’t hunt alone.

Final Chorus

I’m sitting in Grandpa’s stand,

Watching the woods wake up,

Listening to the wind move through the leaves,

Feeling like he’s right beside me,

Like his hand is on my shoulder,

Like I can hear him say, “Be patient, son.”

I thought those days were about the deer,

But now I know what they were.

They were coffee before sunrise,

They were stories in the dark,

They were a little boy learning

What it means to have a man’s heart.

And every buck I see

Feels like another chance

To sit beneath those November skies

In my grandpa’s stand.

Outro

So I’ll keep hunting these woods

As long as God lets me…

And I’ll keep taking Grandpa with me

Every November morning.