WHEN YOU PLAYED THE ORGAN ©
Wun day me Dad bought an owd organ,
from the second hand shop down the street.
But me Mam sed she couldn’t play it,
cos she couldn’t reach pedals wi’ her feet.
The key board ivories wuz aw yeller,
an’ some cracked keys needed tweekin’
An’ wun end o’ the backcloth wuz rotted awa’
an’ smelled like on it dogs had been leakin’
But me Dad got a bloke ti repair it,
an’ me Mam bought some new shoes wi’ thick soles.
An’ a roll of velvet replaced the wet backcloth,
an it hid aw the wee woodworm holes.
Then one Sunday me Mam sat an’ played it,
an’ folks in the street stopped still ti listen.
As the notes of, “Ave Maria”,
brought tears that made all eyes glisten.
“When you played the organ and I sang the Rosary”
wuz next on me Mam’s private list.
But me Dad had ‘ed enough awreddy,
an’ waltzed down ti the pub tu get p----d.
Then one day a passing grey haired bloke heard it,
and knocked on our wee house door.
“Bitte! (please) may I play on your music machine?”
and sounds were heard like never before.
Stops were pulled out and stops were pushed in,
as people danced in the street till gasping.
Children were dancing in whirling circles,
until most fell down wi’ tired shoe soles rasping.
Then the owd man got up and silently left,
an’ the street was strangely still at last.
And that old organ has long been gone,
but remains a happy memory of that day in the past.