Old Man, Old Match

[Verse 1]
Old man on the hillside
coat smells like pine and rain
Hands rough as river rocks
eyes bright as a flaring flame
He hums to the starlings
counts rings on a fallen tree
Keeps a match in his pocket
like a secret memory
[Chorus]
He says, “Fire’s like a story
once it’s told, it travels far”
From a cabin stove
to a crown of sparks
You can warm your hands
or scorch the dark
Old man, old match
try not to break my heart
[Verse 2]
He worked these woods a lifetime
marked trails with a silver nail
Watched smoke on the horizon
read the wind like a letter in the mail
Now he walks with a lantern
checks dry grass and leaning wire
Muttering through his whiskers
“Lord, let me outrun that fire”
[Chorus]
He says, “Fire’s like a story
once it’s told, it travels far”
From a cabin stove
to a crown of sparks
You can warm your hands
or scorch the dark
Old man, old match
try not to break my heart
[Bridge]
[Horn break over stop-time swing]
He taps his cane
on the old porch floor (hey!)
Says, “Son, I’ve seen
this tale before”
One loose spark
on a summer night
And the tallest oak
turns to red daylight
[Chorus]
He says, “Fire’s like a story
once it’s told, it travels far”
From a cabin stove
to a crown of sparks
You can warm your hands
or scorch the dark
Old man, old match
guard every little spark
[Outro]
So he walks that ridge at sundown
soft whistle in the cooling air
One old man, one quiet valley
and a careful, steady prayer

jazz, Vintage Dixieland swing with male vocals, muted trumpet riffs, walking upright bass, and brushed snare. Clarinet and trombone answer the vocal phrases, piano comps lightly in the verses, then the band kicks wider in the choruses with shouty backing hits. Mid-song break for a short, cheeky horn solo over stop-time rhythm, then a half-time outro that leans into a smoky, traditional pop croon., swing, pop, dixieland