He bought it down from Fongaday
Before the First World War
He'd sit down and crack his knuckles,
put his glasses on his head
Well, his right foot stomped the pedals
and his left foot stomped the floor
His wrinkled hands would skip the keys
that wouldn't play no more
He'd play onward Christian soldiers
An d the window panes would shake
When the man of eighty -seven
Played his old eighty -eight
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 hymn note
took its place above the keys
We'd take turns sittin' by him,
he'd knock, turn the page
While his right foot stomped the pedals
and his left foot stomped the floor
His wrinkled hands would skip the key
that wouldn't play no more
He'd play onward, Christian soldiers,
and the window panes would shake
When the man of eighty -seven
played his old eighty -eight
The old piano's silent now,
it don't ring with joy no more
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 pedals
and his 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 wind of pains would
When the man of 87 played
When the man of 87 played his
4.8
