Standing in the darkened garage
I listen to the whistling winter air
And think of times so long ago
And of one who is not there
My Grand dad was a whistler
No matter what he did
Whether reading, sitting, standing still
Whistling is what he did
He told me once the secret was
To purse your lips and blow
It took me years to figure out
But the secret I now know
No one whistles anymore
I love to hear a whistle or a trill
whether someone is just walking by
Or it's a bird out on the hill
I think of Grandad everytime
I hear a whistle sound
I only wish deep in my heart
That he was still around
Chopin, List, John Lennon
It didn't matter one darn bit
He would whistle what was in his head
And I would listen and I'd sit
Grandad could make music
No matter where he was
His whistle made him special
At least, special to us
No one whistles anymore
I love to hear a whistle or a trill
whether someone is just walking by
Or it's a bird out on the hill
I think of Grandad everytime
I hear a whistle sound
I only wish deep in my heart
That he was still around
The wind sounds high and vicious
As I listen through the door
It's a sound Grandad made daily
It's a sound I hear no more
A simple act of moving air
Across one's lips is all
But Grandad could translate it
Into a wild birds call
No one whistles anymore
I love to hear a whistle or a trill
whether someone is just walking by
Or it's a bird out on the hill
I think of Grandad everytime
I hear a whistle sound
I only wish deep in my heart
That he was still around.