When I was little, I got a harmonica from my father
In the interior of my grandfather, who was musical.
Give the boy a harmonica and we will play a duet,
Said grandfather, who played the ace cornet himself.
When grandfather sat in the basement and blew himself up
Grandma became distraught and so did aunt.
One day now aunt met a really handsome man,
Who came and heard grandfather, he turned pale and disappeared.
We practiced together, my grandfather and I.
Then I did a song that was really good.
It had four notes and sounded wonderful,
I think it was about the way it was.
We honked and blew with emotion and trembling
So the pigeons on the roof got ear infections.
But grandpa just poured on, he played as if in a trance
And the pigeons settled somewhere else.
My grandfather, my grandfather, he was a strange man,
Before he was musical and he had the wood.
It stomped he beat along in drill and cadence.
He had no teeth and a ship's crown.
When grandfather got too old, he finally died.
Then the music stopped and everything became sad.
But still, when I think of days gone by,
I blow a little fanfare in Andonom.

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