Tackle Box

	  		

 
 

verse 1 
       D 
It was two shades of brown and scratched up plastic. 
        G 
It held extra line, lures, hooks, and matches. 
     A 
With his last name engraved in black, 
G                                    D 
Right there by the handle on the top. 
    D 
I'd slide it out of the back of his station wagon. 
G 
Lug it down the bank with my arm draggin'. 
A 
I could hardly wait for him 
   G                               D 
To lift the lid on that tackle box. 


          G                              D 
Cause I'd sail with across the South Pacific. 
       A                                        D 
Stand beside him on the bow of that battle ship. 
        G                                        D 
See him kiss the ground and thank the Good Lord Jesus. 
               A                              Bm 
And watch him run to Grandma, cryin' on the dock. 
           Em                G    
He opened up, every time he opened up 
A                   D 
That ole tackle box. 



verse 2 
     D 
He'd bait my hook and keep on tellin' stories 
      G 
About nickel Cokes, girls, and sandlot glories. 
A 
Pickup trucks and golden fields 
G                                 D 
Long before this town knew blacktop. 



               G                                          D 
I was almost ridin' with him shotgun down those dirt roads 
A                                    D 
Takin' turns on a jug of homemade shine 
         G                                    D 
As he raced his buddies down through Mason Holler 
A                                        Bm 
Fillin' the sky with dust and kicked up rocks 
           Em               G 
He opened up every time he opened up  
A                  D 
That ole tackle box. 



Bridge  
Bm                               G 
He's been gone twenty years tomorrow 
    D                                  A 
But I'm still holdin' on to one more wish 
     Bm                            G 
That God above would let be borrow Grandpa 
    D                 G             A 
For one more afternoon and one more fish. 


          G                              D 
Cause I'd sail with across the South Pacific. 
         A                                   D 
Stand beside him on the bow of that battle ship. 
         G                                       D 
See him kiss the ground and thank the Good Lord Jesus. 
               A                                      Bm 
And watch him run to Grandma, cryin' on the dock. 
           Em                G    
He opened up, every time he opened up 
A                        D 
That ole tackle box. 



Outro 
                 Em            G 
Everything he loved, he kept locked up 
A                        D 
In that ole tackle box. 

       D 
It was two shades of brown and scratched up plastic.