I’m not sure why but for the last couple of days I’ve been thinking about my grandfather. Probably because I’ve had Danny Boy running through my head. That’s the song that he wanted sung at his funeral but Grandma just couldn’t do it.
Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountainside.
The summer’s gone, and all the roses falling.
‘Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow,
And I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow.
Oh Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy, I love you so.
But if ye come and all the flow’rs are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be,
Ye’ll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
And I shall hear, though soft your tread above me,
And then my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me,
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.
Miss you Grandpa.