There was a Record,
In my grandpa’s room,
Played it melodies, like it had life of its own!
Went it into melancholy, when life seemingly was mundane,
Blared it scintillating tunes, when life offered seamless surprises .
There always a tune, for every turn,
Knew it, when to uplift our spirits,
Knew it, when to multiply our joys.
It was taken care of,
Like a good old friend,
Not a speck of dust on it, to be seen,
Wiped it clean, every morning, by grandpa himself.
Prized possession indeed it was,
Of my grandpa’s room.
I reckon, it knew,
Of the day, when grandpa parted for the heavenly abode,
Stopped it from playing a tune,
Asked it,” why did he leave us, ever too soon?”
Always a faithful companion,
Never did it disappoint us from playing a tune,
That’s the fond memories I have,
Of the Record in my grandpa’s room.