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Grandpa had a piano it was built in 1904 |
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He brought it down from Sydney town before the First World War |
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He'd sit down and crack his knuckles put his glasses on his head |
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When he'd start to play the cat would run and hide behind the bed |
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Well his right foot stomped the pedals and his left foot stomped the floor |
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His wrinkled hands would skip the keys that wouldn't play no more |
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He'd play Onward Christian Soldiers and the window panes would shake |
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When the man of 87 played his old 88 |
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The piano sat in a corner on a sagging hardwood floor |
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On top was a frame I made for him with a picture of the Lord. |
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A faded baptist hymnal took it's place above the keys |
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We'd take turns sitting by him he'd nod we'd turn the page |
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Well the old piano's silent now it don't ring with joy no more |
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Except sometimes when the cat jumps down when there's someone at the door |
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I can see him up in heaven with a smile upon his face |
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When God and all the angels let him lead Amazing Grace |
