By Baxter Black
Friend is a word that I don’t throw around
Though it’s used and abused, I still like the sound.
I save it for people who’ve done right by me
And I know I can count on, if ever need be.
Some of my friends drive big limousines
Own ranches and banks and visit queens,
And some of my friends are up to their neck
In overdue notes and can’t write a cheque.
They’re singers or ropers or writers of prose
And others, God bless them, can’t blow their own nose!
I guess being friends don’t have nothing to do
With talent or money or knowing who’s who.
It’s a comfortable feeling when you don’t have to care,
About choosing your words or being quite fair.
Cause friends will just listen and let go on by
Those words you don’t mean and not bat an eye.
It makes a friend happy to see your success.
They’re proud of your good side and forgive all the rest.
And that ain’t so easy, all of the time,
Sometimes I get crazy and seem to go blind!
Your friend just might have to take you on home,
Or remind you sometimes, that you’re not alone.
Or ever so gently pull you back to the ground,
When you think you can fly, with no one around.
A hug or a shake, whichever seems right
Is the high of giving, I’ll tell you tonight,
All worldly riches and tributes of men,
Can’t hold a candle to the worth of a friend.
