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.