All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for a poor boy to do
I can still see my mama
Bend over that old washpot
And it's so doggone cold
You could nearly freeze on the spot
My pa eating them flapjacks and yelling for more
And the kids making tracks
Across mama's clean floor
But all them good times are past and gone
Now all the good times are gone
Well you could look for miles
Down a winding railroad track
And see train a leaving and hear one coming back
And with a cloud of blue up over your head
It's like something from a storybook
That you once read
But all them good times are past and gone now
All the good times are gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for a poor boy to do
And go down on that river
When the big boats make their run
And the canepoles grow so thick
They block up the sun
Just smell that coffee
Boiling in an old tin can
And that hot grease popping in the frying pan
But all them good times are past and gone
Now all them good times are gone
All the good times are past and gone
What's left for a poor boy to do
All the good times are past and gone
All the good times are past and gone