Bill Mitchell

Bill Mitchell died the night before last. How does one commemorate someone who was simple, gentle and decent without seeming to offer only faint praise when more is due? I remember his face, his voice and his red polkadot hankies. But most of all I remember his hands. From the first time I met him, I recalled a Hank Snow song that I knew from early years. I think Hank's lyrics offer a more eloquent elegy than any that I could create.

These hands ain't the hands of a gentleman

These hands are calloused and old

These hands raised a family these hands built a home

Now these hands raise to praise the Lord

These hands won the heart of my loved one

And with hers they were never alone

If these hands filled their task then what more could one ask

For these fingers have worked to the bone

Now don't try to judge me by what you'd like me to be

For my life ain't been much success

While some people have power but still they grieve

These hands brought me happiness

Now I'm tired and I'm old and I ain't got much gold

Maybe things ain't been all that I planned

God above hear my plea when it's time to judge me

Take a look at these hard working hands

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Though I did not know him well, this seems this a fitting tribute.

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