A little girl waits with her doll,
sitting of a back porch, thinking of a friend
and thinking of a call.

He was from a small town down in Indiana,
he had big brown eyes
and an old red bandanna.

He spent a lot of time with his Uncle and Aunt,
sitting on their back porch
always saying “I can’t.”

He wasn’t very old,
his cousin was pregnant-
with triplets he was told.

That little baby,
she was Baby B
that was me.

That little girl she grew
she loved him so much
he taught her all that he knew.

Instead of talking about what he couldn’t be,
sitting on that old back porch
always talking to me.

He met a girl that stole his heart,
said he was in love,
he and his baby girl had to part.

It was late
that night he drove home
from his final date.

He drove down to see his Uncle and Aunt,
wanting to sit on that back porch,
back to saying “I can’t”.

He was sad when he did not hear,
the laughter of
his family dear.

He drove to a small town down in Indiana,
wrote a note
and layed it down with a red bandanna.


His eyes filled with tears,
remembering his family’s love
throughout the years.

His car did a whirl,
but did he try to pull over
Before fate took control?

That was the last time his car drove by,
that small town down in Indiana,
that was the night he’d die.

In that small town down in Indiana,
visiting his grave,
I closed my eyes tight and saw a red bandanna.

He was from a small town down in Indiana,
he had big brown eyes
and an old red bandanna.