| Pity a man for he don’t know |
| The trouble he’ll pass going down life’s road |
| When a man is one and twenty, he thinks he knows it all |
| He can’t see down the road of life where he’ll ever fall |
| But fall he will as he travels through life |
| With all its pitfalls troubles and strife |
| Now at fifty, he’s going real strong |
| He has him a family and a nice little home |
| But old age is creeping up his spine |
| And the day is coming when the sun won’t shine |
| Now at sixty, he won’t have to guess |
| He’s already missed the boat that leads to success |
| But he’s done his best and he can’t see why |
| The fame of life just passed him by |
| Now at seventy, he can see the light |
| And he knows he’s never been very bright |
| But he’s done his best as he’s travelled by |
| And now all he can do is just sit and sigh |
| Now at eighty, he’s ready for the wreath |
| He’s wore out his hair and two sets of teeth |
| He has rheumatism in his hands and feet |
| And nothing seems good to eat |
| So you can pity him as he goes up the line |
| As he wobbles on the spindle and he’s almost blind |
| And you can tell by the way that he travels alone |
| That it won’t be long before he’s going home |
| But if he’s kept the commandments as he’s travelled through life |
| He’ll have a home in heaven where there’ll be no strife |
| He’s worked all his life to get things the way he wants them |
| He comes here against his will and he goes away disappointed |