The Story of Charlie


Sunday, August 16, 2009


by Stan C. Countz
[dedicated to his father, Charlie Countz]

He grew up on a farm
Had looks and charm
Met mom in high school
Fell for her real hard

He was cool but she was smart
And I guess that was the start
Of the recipe for a broken heart
The recipe for a broken heart

He went to work milkin' cows
They had a baby on the way
He'd rather be huntin' hounds
Than workin' and slavin' away

The baby came and it was me
But I had no way of knowin'
He didn't know whether he
Was a comin' or a goin'

Moved to the bay a ways away
To make a brand new start
Worked night and day for higher pay
Came home way after dark

Guess that was part of the recipe
The recipe for a broken heart...

Two more boys, more mouths to feed
He was workin' hard all the time
He and mom were a different breed
They made us all tow the line

Moved back to the valley
Opened a little shop
Bought a little ranch
And raised a few crops

But when it came to drinkin'
He couldn't seem to stop
'Til one day he was hangin'
From a hundred foot drop

Somehow he came out without a scratch
But after that he became quite attached
To a group that showed a lot of promise
And he could even stay anonymous

He was still on the hunt and on the prowl
He drove a pickup truck, not a Mercedes
On moonlit nights you could hear him howl
And he still had a thing for the ladies

After 27 years, he divorced my mom
And she never quite knew why
He was a ticking time bomb
He just got tired of all the lies

He met a girl half his age
He thought she was real hot
Soon she took center stage
But she couldn't seem to stop

Though he stayed sober
Her drugs took over
And before too long
He showed her the door

She loved her buzz more than she loved him
There were lots of fish, so he threw her back in
The problem is he'd forgotten how to swim
He was drowning in a sea, a sea of sin

So he reached out and asked the Savior in
He believed in Jesus and he was born again
He went to church with his hat and his belt
Learned he can't love others 'til he loves himself

He went south of the border to help build a church
But he was more right wing than even John Burch
If your name wasn't written on your leather belt
You might as well be damned forever in Hell

He hung out a lot at Pizza Plus
But he didn't eat his Wheaties
He didn't want to make a fuss
So he developed diabetes

It was hard for him to swaller
They took away his keys
His world was growin' smaller
It was a disabling disease

His arteries were clogged
And his heart was weak
But he loved his dogs
And his dogs had fleas

His sight grew worse
And he could barely see
He yelled and cursed

His heart bypass made him take stock
When he had those strokes, he could barely talk
He would use his walker to help him walk
If he'd been your father, you'd have been shocked

But God is not mocked
What a man sows, he will reap
Whom the Lord saves, He can surely keep
He saves us from the wolves, for we are His sheep
So don't you cry and don't you weep
He didn't die, he's just asleep.

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