Grandma’s hands
Clapped in church on Sunday morning
Grandma’s hands
Played a tambourine so well
Grandma’s hands
Used to issue out a warning
She’d say, “Billy don’t you run so fast
Might fall on a piece of glass
“Might be snakes there in that grass”
Grandma’s hands
Grandma’s hands
Soothed a local unwed mother
Grandma’s hands
Used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma’s hands
Used to lift her face and tell her,
“Baby, Grandma understands
That you really buy cialis in singapore love that man
Put yourself in Jesus hands”
Grandma’s hands
Grandma’s hands
Used to hand me piece of candy
Grandma’s hands
Picked me up each time I fell
Grandma’s hands
Boy, they really came in handy
She’d say, “Matty don’ you whip that boy
What you want to spank him for?
He didn’t drop no apple core”
But I don’t have Grandma anymore
If I get to Heaven I’ll look for
Grandma’s hands
See these hands
See these hands folded now,
Hands that wrought for so many,
Tended and tidied a family,
Soothed them and calmed them,
Fed, clothed and reared them
Almost on nothing.
See these hands resting,
That in the old hard days
Picked blackberries for pennies
And gathered dry sticks in bundles,
In dim March days I scarcely remember
When beech woods were a mystery
And fox cubs played among daffodils.
See these hands resting,
That raked hay in the fields
Of a summer coloured with butterflies,
That brought tea and sandwiches
To tired men at harvest,
And scattered wheat and Argentinian maize
To hungry hens.
See these diligent hands, hands never still,
Hands they have folded now,
Hands that are resting,
That will never be active again,
Long though I kneel for their blessing.
(Frank Mansell)
Thank you, Sweetpea.