Lincoln was a long man. He liked the out of doors.
He liked the wind a-blowing and the talk in country stores.
He liked telling stories. He liked telling jokes.
"Abe's quite a character," said quite a lot of folks.
Lots of folks in Springfield saw him every day,
Just a-walking down the street in his gaunt, long way.
Shawl around his shoulders, letters in his hat.
"That's Abe Lincoln." They thought no more than that.
Knew that he was honest, guessed that he was odd,
Knew he had a cross wife, though she was a Todd.
Knew he had three little boys who liked to shout and play,
Knew he had a lot of debts it took him years to pay.
Knew his clothes and knew his house. "That's his office, here.
Blame good lawyer, on the whole, though he's sort of queer.
Sure he went to Congress, once. But he didn't stay.
Can't expect us all to be smart as Henry Clay.
Need a man for troubled times? Well, I guess we do.
Wonder who we'll ever find? Yes -- I wonder who."
That is how they met and talked, Knowing and unknowing.
Lincoln was the green pine. Lincoln kept on growing.