
[Verse 1] Before the sun would break the morning sky, We’d load up the truck and let the world pass by. Coffee in a thermos, cold air in our lungs, Just a father and his boy, where the memories begun. You taught me how to hunt, how to read the land, How to be a better man by watching who I am. And through all those years, there’s one day I’ll never miss, The day you handed me that old Remington six. [Chorus] It was more than an old thirty-ought-six, More than blued steel, walnut, and a worn-down grip. It was your steady hand saying, “Son, you’re ready now,” And all the things you couldn’t say came through somehow. I still hear your words when the north wind cuts, Still see that fall sun coming through the pines. You gave me a rifle, but what I carry is this: A father’s love in an old thirty-ought-six. [Verse 2] That first season, I was shaking in my coat, You smiled and said, “Take your time; let the moment come.” We walked the ridge where the maples turned to flame, And you taught me every track had its own name. Years rolled on; the boy grew tall and left, But I kept that rifle close beside the rest. Now when I take it down, your old advice comes back: Respect the land, be sure, and leave it as you found it. [Chorus] It was more than an old thirty-ought-six, More than blued steel, walnut, and a worn-down grip. It was your steady hand saying, “Son, you’re ready now,” And all the things you couldn’t say came through somehow. I still hear your words when the north wind cuts, Still see that fall sun coming through the pines. You gave me a rifle, but what I carry is this: A father’s love in an old thirty-ought-six. [Bridge] Now my own boy walks beside me through the leaves, Small boots finding prints where the deer have been. I show him how to listen, how to let the wild be, And tell him what your father once told me. [Final Chorus] It’s more than an old thirty-ought-six, More than blued steel, walnut, and a worn-down grip. It’s your steady hand, and the years we shared, The quiet kind of love that was always there. I still hear your words when the north wind cuts, Still see that fall sun coming through the pines. You gave me a rifle, and a life I wouldn’t trade— A father’s love that time can’t take away. [Outro] Before the sun breaks the morning sky, I’ll take your old rifle and remember why.
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