Rye Whiskey!

My Grandpa used to dance and sing, Joy to my heart he always would bring; Just a few bars, not the whole song, Pretty soon I’d be singing along; “Rye whiskey, rye whiskey” you’d hear us both say, Or “Red River Valley”, if it was a good day; All the old westerns, when I hear them I cry, I don’t hear them often since Grandpa died; No one sings “Old Faithful” no more, It’s just an old song that people ignore; He used to say “now that was art”, I have to agree, I know them by heart; I catch myself humming an old melody, And I smile, hoping he’s thinking of me; And to prove that I know it, I burst out in song, And maybe in heaven, he’s singing along; “If the ocean was whiskey and I was a duck, I’d swim to the bottom and never come up”; My Grandpa was so special you see, And by having his songs, he lives on through me!