Bend the ear of a wise old man
telling him what this place is;
over and over, you'll waste your time
just shouting empty phrases~
He won't read lips, he's never has
he's spent his life just is he as
He's all mixed up and all that jazz
the words, his mind erases.
~~And yet somehow I never fail
to communicate frustration
it's always clear and never lost
in the aging or translation~~
Guide him gently down the aisle
He's got a limp, it takes a while
overlook the caustic tone
Commanding was his style~
Now take the time to softly smile
mind your manners, walk that mile,
Don't patronize, but recognize
he thinks you're Gomer Pyle.
He speaks of friends he lost at war
and thinks his kids are only 4
incontinent and up all night~
prefers you called him Sarge.
Sit beside him, don't you worry
let him eat without the flurry
let him lead, and listen well
you'll come to love The Sarge.
You never know how it'll be
if you reach that golden 93
you hope your mind will last as long
but there ain't no way of telling~
They say that it is in the genes
but who knows what brings down our beans
if we lose our ears and minds
let's hope there's no one yelling.