Cold Coffee

modern country with steel guitar and banjo riffs

(Verse 1)
He hangs his hard hat on the hook by the door,
The union card yellowed, the boots on the floor.
Forty years on the waterfront, rain, wind, and sun,
Now the ships roll in without him, and the work carries on.
He sits on the porch with a coffee gone cold,
Watching the gulls fight the tide, feeling empty and old.
The crane lights are glowing like stars he once knew,
But the hook's hanging idle, and the job's passing through.
(Chorus)
Oh, I wish I could put one more can away,
Feel the weight in my shoulders at the break of the day.
Hear the whistle blow, feel the deck under my feet,
Just one more shift, Lord, before I admit defeat.
I hung up my hat, thought the rest would be sweet,
But the silence is killing me, the quiet's too deep.
Yeah, I regret that morning I turned in my key,
I’d trade all these tomorrows for one more can with the boys and me.
(Verse 2)
The stories get told at the hall over beers,
But they’re fading like tattoos from his younger years.
He remembers the pain in his back from the load,
The burn in his arms when the hold overflowed.
Now the TV is blaring some show he don’t care,
And the wife says he’s restless, just pacing upstairs.
The pier calls his name in the fog every dawn,
But he’s just an old longshoreman with nowhere to belong.
(Chorus)
Oh, I wish I could put one more can away,
Feel the sweat on my brow when the foreman would say,
“Keep it moving, boys!” with that fire in his eyes.
Just one more container under these harbor skies.
I hung up my hat, thought the rest would be sweet,
But the silence is killing me, the quiet’s too deep.
Yeah, I regret that morning I turned in my key,
I’d trade all these tomorrows for one more can with the boys and me.
(Bridge)
They say retirement’s golden, a well-earned reward,
But gold don’t move cargo, and it don’t swing the chord.
I miss the brotherhood, the ache in my bones,
The rhythm of labor that felt like home.
(Final Chorus – slower, softer)
So I wish I could put one more can away…
Just one more time before I fade away.
Hear the whistle blow, feel the deck under my feet,
One last shift, boys… before I admit defeat.
I hung up my hat… but my heart’s still at sea,
Lord, give this old longshoreman one more can… with the boys and me.
(Outro – spoken or fading)
Yeah… just one more can.

2290/7500

(Verse 1) He hangs his hard hat on the hook by the door, The union card yellowed, the boots on the floor. Forty years on the waterfront, rain, wind, and sun, Now the ships roll in without him, and the work carries on. He sits on the porch with a coffee gone cold, Watching the gulls fight the tide, feeling empty and old. The crane lights are glowing like stars he once knew, But the hook's hanging idle, and the job's passing through. (Chorus) Oh, I wish I could put one more can away, Feel the weight in my shoulders at the break of the day. Hear the whistle blow, feel the deck under my feet, Just one more shift, Lord, before I admit defeat. I hung up my hat, thought the rest would be sweet, But the silence is killing me, the quiet's too deep. Yeah, I regret that morning I turned in my key, I’d trade all these tomorrows for one more can with the boys and me. (Verse 2) The stories get told at the hall over beers, But they’re fading like tattoos from his younger years. He remembers the pain in his back from the load, The burn in his arms when the hold overflowed. Now the TV is blaring some show he don’t care, And the wife says he’s restless, just pacing upstairs. The pier calls his name in the fog every dawn, But he’s just an old longshoreman with nowhere to belong. (Chorus) Oh, I wish I could put one more can away, Feel the sweat on my brow when the foreman would say, “Keep it moving, boys!” with that fire in his eyes. Just one more container under these harbor skies. I hung up my hat, thought the rest would be sweet, But the silence is killing me, the quiet’s too deep. Yeah, I regret that morning I turned in my key, I’d trade all these tomorrows for one more can with the boys and me. (Bridge) They say retirement’s golden, a well-earned reward, But gold don’t move cargo, and it don’t swing the chord. I miss the brotherhood, the ache in my bones, The rhythm of labor that felt like home. (Final Chorus – slower, softer) So I wish I could put one more can away… Just one more time before I fade away. Hear the whistle blow, feel the deck under my feet, One last shift, boys… before I admit defeat. I hung up my hat… but my heart’s still at sea, Lord, give this old longshoreman one more can… with the boys and me. (Outro – spoken or fading) Yeah… just one more can.

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