A song after “Grandpa Was a Carpenter”, by John Prine

Grandpa worked the railroad freight
Grandma at the bank,
They met for dinner every day
And never smoked or drank.

Grandma called him Osmund,
Dinner five-thirty sharp
Then his constitutional
Returning just ‘fore dark

Grandpa was a Railroad Man
for the Cleveland Nickel Plate,
an office in the Terminal Tower
where he managed freight.

His accounts were neat and tidy,
his Florsheims sharply shined,
Always wore his railroad-watch, ‘cuz
“The freight will run on time!”

Now, grandma always drove the car,
Grandpa didn’t drive.
He drove some friends home drinking once
It was him remained alive.

They’d weath’rd the Great Depression
And world wars one and two,
If asked just how they’d managed, said,
“Well we just pressed on through.”

… Refrain …

I’d nap with him on Sunday
Lone Ranger on the radio,
Sometimes he’d switch to baseball
Just to hear if the Indians show’d

His breathing was so casual
he never even snored
I couldn’t tell if he really slept, cuz
He always knew the score.

… Refrain …

He took me to the Christmas Party
down to the Terminal Tower
I got a winning raffle ticket
but that drawing was for a doll named Flower

Grandpa rose and voiced dissent,
the only time I’d ever seen him mad
I could hardly match his angry pace
as we left to catch a cab

Come Christmas Day at Grandma’s
I couldn’t believe my eyes!
The hockey table I should have won
‘stead of that ‘girls only’ prize.

… Refrain …

Well Grandpa died one Friday
Slumped upon his desk
his accounts no longer tidy
underneath his chest

When Grandpa up and left us
I was just eleven
Grandma followed the very next year,
I’m sure they’re both in heaven.

… Refrain …

Yep, Grandpa always knew the score!