Verse 1
Still have that worn out glove
In the back of the closet.
One my dad gave to me
When I turned thirteen.
He said he’d teach me how
To throw that twelve-six curveball.
Just like all the pros
We watched on T.V.
Senior year my brother
Went off to college.
Pops gave me the talk
And handed my first set o’ keys.
To a Buckner Rust a little beaten up
Thought it would breakdown every mile.
But somehow it always got
For me to be.
Chorus
Those hand me downs
Didn’t mean much back then
They sure do now.
All the memories that I
Couldn’t live without,
Are still hangin’ around…
Those hand me downs.
Verse 2
All the final records
Sittin’ up in the attic.
From Cash and Merles
To Patti and Bruce Springsteen.
I can still hear our voices
Cuttin’ through the static.
On those long car rides from
Boston to Tennessee.
Chorus
Those hand me downs
Didn’t mean much back then
They sure do now.
All the memories that I
Couldn’t live without,
Are still hangin’ around…
Those hand me downs.
Those hand me downs…
Oh-whoa.
Bridge
His laugh, his grin, his stuborness,
And when to give a ****.
All the lessons learned
That made me who I am.
Chorus
Those hand me downs
Didn’t mean much back then
They sure do now.
All the memories that I
Couldn’t live without,
Are still hangin’ around…
Those hand me downs…
Those hand me downs..
Ohh-whoa..