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Grandfather sits in an old rocking chair,
And he hums a sad song to the still morning air;
For this old folks prison don't feel much like home,
And though he's got friends he feels so much alone.
Ah, but Julie comes Sundays when she finds the time,
And she brings homemade bread and some blueberry wine;
But most of all she brings him hope for a while,
Then she leaves the old man with a tear and a smile.
The old days Grandfather remembers so sweet,
You should see the old Ford Model T's on the street;
And the hot roaring twenties were a young man's delight,
With a straw hat and whiskey and speed kings and dice.
Ah, but Julie comes Sundays when she finds the time,
And she brings homemade bread and some blueberry wine;
But most of all she brings him hope for awhile,
Then she leaves the old man with a tear and a smile.
Do the folks in the village remember us still?
Are we quickly forgotten when we're over the hill?
And as Grandfather drifts down the warm sunset years,
He can scarcely recall all the seasons of tears.
Ah, but Julie comes Sundays when she finds the time,
And she brings homemade bread and some blueberry wine;
But most of all she brings him hope for awhile,
Then she leaves the old man with a tear and a smile.
