| For as long as I remember, when Friday night came round
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| The family would gather out at grandpa’s house
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| With supper over and the dishes done
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| It was then the best time came
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| At an old upright piano that only grandma played
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| She played beautiful dreamer, my wild Irish rose;
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| She never played 'em perfect, but there was love in every note
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| Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang
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| At the old upright piano that only grandma played
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| Grandpa was a stubborn man, they said it was his style
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| Grandma called him ornery, but she said it with a smile
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| Even he could not disguise the love he felt so strong;
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| We all could see it in his eyes when she played his favorite song
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| She played beautiful dreamer, my wild Irish rose;
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| She never played 'em perfect, but there was love in every note
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| Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang
|
| At the old upright piano that only grandma played
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| I was almost 17 when my grandma died;
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| I stayed all night with grandpa; |
| the old man never cried
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| He sat at her piano, there was nothing we could say
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| It was the first time in my life I ever heard my grandpa play
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| It wasn’t beautiful dreamer or my wild Irish rose
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| It was a song he played from memory & he never missed a note
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| I sat right there beside him until the morning came
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| What a friend we have in Jesus was the only song he played
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| She played beautiful dreamer, my wild Irish rose;
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| She never played 'em perfect, but there was love in every note
|
| Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang
|
| At the old upright piano that only grandma played |