Bad Jokes and Old Fords

[intro]
Soft guitar, a gravel driveway hum
Sixty candles on a sheet cake, bud

[verse]
That old F-150's still in the drive
Three hundred thousand miles and it's barely alive
You patch it with duct tape and prayers on Sundays
Swear it's got ten more years, and I don't doubt you, maybe

[pre-chorus]
And every Sunday barbecue, you lean back in that chair
Fire off another pun, like you don't see us groan
"I'm on a roll," you say — we're crying, "Please, no"
But half of us are laughing when nobody's looking, there

[chorus]
Here's to sixty years of pickup trucks and bad jokes
Steel-belted radials and cheap camo boots
You taught me how to change the oil, how to take a punch
How to laugh at myself before the world throws one at me first
Happy birthday, old man — crank the radio up
'Cause every corny punchline's just your way of saying "love"

[verse]
You parallel parked that thing in a spot way too tight
Backing up a trailer with your eyes closed, that's right
Remember when you said the fish were biting at dawn
We sat there six hours, caught one bluegill, you called it a win, son

[bridge]
Sixty years of muddy boots drying on the porch
Of calling every waitress "darlin'" and meaning nothing but warmth
If I'm half the man you are when I hit that number too
I'll count myself lucky — God knows I learned it all from you

[chorus]
Here's to sixty years of pickup trucks and bad jokes
Steel-belted radials and cheap camo boots
You taught me how to change the oil, how to take a punch
How to laugh at myself before the world throws one at me first
Happy birthday, old man — crank the radio up
'Cause every corny punchline's just your way of saying "love"

[outro]
So blow out them candles, don't hurt your back
And when you crack the next one — yeah, I'm already groaning
But keep 'em coming, Dad, keep 'em coming
Sixty never sounded so good