Nelda Stockman was her name You can't make up that sorta thing Skin like a plastic bag I was the only visitor she had She stood four feet short With eyes that always seemed to water She was old But she was somebody's daughter She didn't talk much anymore They didn't say what for We'd sit there and hold hands I'd sing her old country standards To know the room you're gonna die in Does it make you free or make you silent She was old But you should have seen her smiling ♪ Between the breathing machines and beeps I wondered how she'd ever sleep The TV never stopped But I never heard her watch it She kept a military man Beside her bed in a frame She was old And there was nobody to blame ♪ Nelda Stockman was her name You can't make up that sorta thing She died in her hospice room I'd long since moved I just got a letter It was typed and numb Said she was old And her time had come The day she passed Is a day I can't remember The day she passed Was just like the day after