The Life, Living, Death and Dying of a Certain and Peculiar L.J. Nichols - Marc Riley BBC 6 Music Session 28 / 04 / 2014

My grandpa was born on a cold summer's day
Not in New York, Chicago, or any special place
And as the sun bent down on his mother's breast as he did there lay
His father got his whip and sharpened his axe that day

Oh, no grandpa, grandpa, oh-oh-oh
And oh, grandpa, grandpa, oh-oh-oh

And my grandpa left the farm to see what he could see
Tired of watching his ma getting whipped on the tree
And as the sun bent down on his face as he ran that day
His mother turned her cheek and looked the other way

And oh, grandpa, grandpa you were a friend to me
And oh, grandpa, grandpa I miss your lying heart you see

And my grandpa met grandma on a bus stuck in the woods
He turned to her and said, "You will?" Yes, she said she would
And as the sun bent down on my grandmas hand that day
One gentle kiss he slightly, slightly stole away

And oh, grandpa, grandpa you were a friend to me
And oh, grandpa, grandpa I miss your lying heart you see

And my grandpa raised his young deep there in the south
He ruled with an iron fist and a harpooned mouth
And as the sun bent down on, on his children's shoulders that day
They saw his God, his love, his song blow, blow away

And oh, grandpa, grandpa, oh-oh-oh
And oh, grandpa, grandpa, oh-oh-oh