Old Fashioned Cry
Gene Davis
Each night when the lights of the city go on
I'm at home with them old friends of mine
I talk with a mem'ry about thing I miss
While the hands of the clock drag the time
From the dresser your picture smiles back at me
Then the tears start to fall from my eyes
I turn off lights and for the rest of the night
I have me an old fashioned cry
[ steel ]
From the dresser...