He lived down by the railroad track,
Old Rufus was his name.
All the children called him Goofus,
Daddy said it was a shame.
He wouldn't tell me what to do,
He said I should decide,
but all a man could call his own
was his good name and his pride.
The memory lingers ever gentle,
in my heart and on my mind,
Like a phantom silhouette,
undimmed by passing time.
by accident or quirk of fate,
I saw no need to reason why,
We shared a special secret,
Old Rufus and I,
Every one said he was crazy,
I guess I'll never really know.
If it's crazy being different,
then I suppose it must be so.
Too young to really understand
I saw the writing on the wall,
And it was clear there had been
pride before the fall.
Grandpa had a sawmill, where I
often went to swing and play.
One day I saw Old Rufus coming,
this time I didn't run away.
I said, "Hey Mr. Rufus, what
you got in your sack?"
At first I thought he hadn't heard,
he never once looked back.
He walked on down the road aways,
then slowly turned around
I was so scared I couldn't move,
I had to stand my ground.
I couldn't think of a thing to say,
all I could do was smile.
In a low rusty voice he said, "it's
late, you better go home child."
After that if I happened to be alone,
and no one was around to see,
I would wave at him and say, "hey Mr.
Rufus" and he would wave at me.
Once Grandpa and me went to the mill
and there was a new seat in my swing.
And a package, all wrinkled and dirty,
clumsily tied with a string.
It was a slingshot like my cousin
Bill's and I knew it was meant for me.
Grandpa said he didn't put it there,
I wondered who it could be.
I didn't have long to wonder,
I saw Rufus the very next day.
He handed me a funny little corn
shuck doll, and started to walk away.
I said "thanks for the slingshot
Mr. Rufus, thanks for the doll too."
He answered, "you're welcome child,
but I should be thanking you"
Then one day Daddy told me Rufus
was dead.
I felt like I wanted to cry.
So I did, just a little, cause we
had a secret,
We were friends, Old Rufus and I.