Dollard Marlowe doesn’t live on the Kaywood Road anymore They took him to the City to a government old age home All of us eventually will wither and grow old Dollard Marlowe doesn’t live on the Kaywood Road anymore The wood pile by the back shed, the work of his withered hands Home built of local pine, when he was a young man Now they got him in that city compound ‘til he breathes no more I wonder if he’d rather die along the Kaywood Road - - - Last summer, Dollard shared a pot of Stag Creek country tea He poured himself a shaky cup, then one for Billy and me In leaving, we promised him we’d come again for sure But Dollard Marlowe doesn’t live on the Kaywood Road anymore - - - Progress teaches all of us, we must pay its price Electric lights are practical, but a lantern sure is nice Don’t trust your neighbour out of fear that he might get you first And don’t dare die until you’ve checked with the city officials first - - - Dollard now is crying out for the only life he knows Cursing modern progress that took away his home But one day soon his soul will come back to that cabin door And stare upon the pavement they’ve laid on the Kaywood Road No, Dollard Marlowe doesn’t live on that dusty road anymore