Grandpa had a piano, it was built in 1904
he bought it down from Sydney town before the first world war
He'd sit down and crack his knuckles, put his glasses on his head
when he'd start to play the cat would run and hide behind the bed
Well his right foot stomped the peddals
and left foot stomped the floor
his wrinkled hands would skip the keys that wouldn't play no more
he'd play Onward Christian Soldiers
and the window panes would shake
when the man of 87 played his old 88
The piano sat in the corner, on a sagging hardwood floor
on top was a frame I made for him, with a picture of the Lord
a faded Baptist Hymnal took it's place above the keys
we'd take turns sitting by him, he'd nod to turn the page
chorus
Well the old piano's silent now it don't ring for joy no more
except sometimes when the cat jumps down
when there's someone at the door
I can see him up in heaven, with a smile upon his face
when God and all the Angels, let him lead amazing grace.
Well his right foot stomped the peddals
and left foot stomped the floor
his wrinkled hands would skip the keys that wouldn't play no more
he'd play Onward Christian Soldiers
and the window panes would shake
when the man of 87 played his old 88
when the man of 87 played his old eighty eight.