Old Fingers,
He's the one,
The one with the withered hands
Arthritic strands..
They're such Old Fingers
Years of toil
Are etched in his wrinkled skin
skin getting thin

Crows feet patterns
Show purple veins
Gnarled they are
Where each scar still remains
Chiseled lines,
Like a willow's branches
From the years of riding ranches

Old Fingers,
Leather tough,
Oblivious of the cold
His hands are old

Tales of yore, he will pour in your ear
But, watch out, he may scout for your rear
When he sees pretty girl, can't resist her
She could get a pinch from

Mister Old Fingers
Naughty thoughts in his heart
Are still bold
Although he's old..

His mind isn't old,
Not that old
Likes to hold
A fine booty fold
Young at heart,
Not that old...
.
Old Fingers....