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.