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 **** 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.