A Good Man

David was a golden boy his mamma’s only son he’d pull his Converse high-tops on and man, could David run. Growing up south Arkansas in 1952 free-throws and picture shows— what more could a good boy do? What more could a good boy do? He never ran for president his name was known by few but everywhere that David went well, he’d have some time for you. What else would a good boy do? David went to college and he found himself a wife got a job in Memphis settled down into his life. Their first child was a big surprise right out of the blue of course, he named him David what else would a good boy do? What else would a good boy do? He never made a fortune leastwise, that I knew but he wrapped his family in his arms and loved them strong and true. What else would a good man do? They say a good man’s hard to find I reckon that it’s true— and if that job paid any better there wouldn’t be so few. So here’s to all the good boys, every mother’s son lace up your high-tops lads long may you run. Long may you run. He could have done most anything— spread his wings and flew but he chose to stay here on the ground to show his son just what to do. What more could a good man do? Yeah, you could have done most anything— spread your wings and flew but you chose to stay here on the ground to show me what to do. And I want to be a good man just like you. I want to be a good man just like you.