Buck Up, Little Camper Verse 1 My daddy had a way with ordinary words, He'd smile before he'd say 'em, like they already worked. "Buck up, little camper," he'd laugh beneath his breath, "Life's gonna leave a few scratches, but it ain't done with you yet." The mornings smelled like fresh-cut grass, Coffee on the stove. A screen door singing in the breeze, And nowhere we had to go. Chorus We grew up in the seventies, When a day could last forever. A bicycle and an open road Could hold the whole world together. We didn't have much money, But somehow we had enough. Love lived in the little things... And "buck up" was stronger than luck. Verse 2 The neighborhood was family, Whether we were kin or not. We chased the sound of ice cream trucks Till the summer days got hot. The porch light called us home at dusk, Crickets filled the air. Funny how the simple things Are the ones still waiting there. Bridge Time has a way of changing every town, Trading front porches for locked-up doors. But every now and then I hear his voice Like it's drifting through an old screen window... Final Chorus We grew up in the seventies, When the world fit in our hands. Learning right from watching those Who never needed plans. If I could thank my daddy For one thing that still remains, It'd be four little words That carried me through the years— "Buck up, little camper." And somehow... they still do.
