Here’s lookin up your old dirt road

Here’s Looking Up Your Old Dirt Road

Verse 1
Back when we lived in Atlanta,
Billy lived just down the way,
We’d meet out back for happy hour
At the closing of the day.
He’d lift that first cold cocktail,
With a grin we all adored,
And say, “Here’s looking up your old dirt road,”
Then we’d laugh and drink some more.

Verse 2
Sixty miles and years away,
Funny how those old words stay.
Now I raise my glass at happy hour
And look straight up that road today.
Two miles running through the country,
Half in pavement, half ignored,
And every time I see that red dirt
I hear Billy’s old accord.

Chorus
Here’s looking up your old dirt road,
Where the kudzu climbs and the dust clouds roll,
Where the washboard shakes you axle-deep
And the county trucks take their toll.
Raise a glass to the folks down yonder,
Paying taxes like the rest of the world,
Still bouncing home through Georgia clay—
Here’s looking up your old dirt road.

Verse 3
After rain the trucks come rolling,
Heavy tires cut every row,
Then the sun comes out for two weeks
And the powder starts to blow.
You can see a car approaching
By the dust before the Ford,
Like a brown fog through the hardwoods
Rolling up that old dirt road.

Verse 4
Now there’s porches, roofs and mailboxes,
New homes tucked among the pines,
Folks are planting grass and gardens,
Putting up their county signs.
They send their checks like everybody,
Every penny duly owed,
Then they rattle home each evening
Down that same old county road.

Bridge
Billy probably never figured
That his joke would travel far,
From an Atlanta backyard happy hour
To a pasture and a barn.
But some lines just keep on living,
Long after where they first were told,
And his still gets raised around here
Every time the drinks get cold.

Final Chorus
Here’s looking up your old dirt road,
Where the kudzu climbs and the dust clouds roll,
Where the washboard keeps you honest
And the red clay stains your soul.
Raise a glass to the folks down yonder,
And the stories getting old,
Sixty miles and years away—
Here’s looking up your old dirt road.

Outro
Billy, wherever you are tonight,
We’re still raising that first one cold.
And this time when we say it,
We can actually see the road.

Here’s looking up your old dirt road.