Lyrics
This old porch is a big ol' red and white Herford bull
Standin' under a mesquite tree in Agua Dulce, Texas
He just keeps on playin' hide and seek with that hot August sun
He's sweatin' and a pantin' 'cause his work is never done oh, no
They got them cows and a red top cane
This old porch just a steamin' greasy plate of enchiladas
With lots of cheese and onions, guacamole salad
You can get them at the LaSalle Hotel in old downtown
With iced tea and a waitress who will smile every time, yeah she will
I left a quarter tip on my ten dollar bill
This old porch is a palace walk-in on a main street in Texas
It ain't never seen or heard the days of G's and R's and X's
With that '62 poster that's almost faded down
And a screen without a picture since Giant came to town, oh no
I love them junior mints and them red hots too, yes I do, oh yeah
Well, my name is Robert Earl King Jr and this one
I'd like to welcome y'all here to the Sons of Herman Hall
We're having a big time tonight
I wrote this song here, the front porch song
With my friend Lyle Lovett back some years ago, yeah
We lived in College Station, Texas
Woo, that's right
We was Aggies
Oh, no, some non-Aggie fans
We used to sit on this old porch on Church Street
Right across from the Presbyterian Church and play bluegrass and folk music
And talk about girls and where we were gonna move to when our parents got our grades
Talk about someday becoming big songwriters
And our conversations were only interrupted by my landlord, Jack Boyette who was 70 years old at the time
He'd roll up in the heat of the day and roll down his window on his pickup truck
Just enough to be heard, not enough to let any of the air conditioning escape
Say, "Robert King! Robert King!
Can you come help me for a minute?"
I'd spend the rest of the day
Mowin' lawns and movin' furniture
Digging skinny cows out of the mud out there at his old ranch
But we always looked forward to Sunday there on the porch because being across from the Presbyterians
We'd crawl out about 11:30 Sunday morning in our underwear
Amongst four or five hundred empty beer cans
Strap on a banjo and a guitar
Wait for the Presbyterians
We was waiting for 'em to come out of church
So we could sing 'em a little gospel music
Give 'em something to talk about on their way to Luby's
This old porch just a weathered grey haired 70 years of Texas
He's doin' all he can not to give in to the city
And he always takes rent late so long as I run his cattle
He picks me up at dinner time, I listen to him rattle
He says the Brazos still runs muddy like she's run all along
There ain't never been no cane to grind, the cotton's all but gone
And you know this Chevrolet pickup truck, hell she was somethin' back in '60
Now there won't nobody to listen to him 'cause they all think he's crazy
This old porch just a long time waitin' and forgettin'
Remembering the coming back, not crying 'bout the leaving
And remembering the falling down and the laughter of the curse of luck
From all those sons of bitches who said we'd never get back up
This old porch is just a big old red-and-white Hereford bull
Standing under a mesquite tree out in Agua Dulce
Just keeps on playing hide-and-seek with that hot August sun
He's sweating and a-panting 'cause his work is never done, oh no
I've known a whole lot of ol' bulls in my life, and their work is never done
