It's the feeling that I get looking down at my brand new baby
Holding on to daddy's thumb just as tightly as he can hold
And it's hearin' people say he looks a lot like his daddy
These things are a poor man's gold

It's the twinkle in the eyes of the gray haired old man we call grandpa
Tellin' tales to the kids that get taller every time there told
And it's knowin' that for a while he's no longer lonely
These things are a poor man's gold

It's the smell of honeysuckle in the springtime it's the silence of a freshly fallin snow
It's the sound of children laughing in the sunshine
It's a crisp autum night with a million stars all aglow
And it's the sweet sleepy sound of your warm gentle breathing