One Of The Boys: acordes por 
Christine Lavin 
N/A1 visualizações
Key: Db major•
Verse 1
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My
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Grandfather
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Thomas was a serious man.
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worked every day of his life.
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First as a lawyer , then as a judge.
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My grandmother
Charlotte was his darling wife.
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They had seven children and 42 grandkids
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who looked up to him as the great
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Pat riarch he spent his
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whole life here in
New
York
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City
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quietly mak ing his mark
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Grand pa was a type a workaholic
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before we knew what those terms meant
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He would bring briefcase s filled with work
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pa pers to every family event.
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He didn't drink.
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He didn't smoke.
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He was quite formal whenever he spoke.
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And though we loved him,
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we never felt close.
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He was a serious man.
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Yes, my grand father was a
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very ser ious man.
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He loved the law, he loved upholding the law,
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and he prided him self on never breaking the
law.
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Though he did have some trouble
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with social conventions.
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My grand parents had season
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tickets to the
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Metropol itan
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Opera, and my grandfather had
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to sit on the aisle for a very
practical reason.
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He would bring his work paper s to the opera and he would use
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the tiny lights along the floor to illuminate them.
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I don't think ushers at the
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Met today would tolerate that kind of be havior,
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but he got away with it back then.
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Now my grandma and grandpa
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never took any exotic trips.
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With so many grandchildren,
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their dance card was pretty much filled.
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Every weekend they'd be attending a christening or a confirm
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ation or a graduation or a birthday or a wedding.
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An d you could see
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Grandpa in all the family photos, serious and stately,
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in his pinstripe suit, bowtie and fedora, never smiling.
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Though in a couple of the pictures we noticed re
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cently that he had a bit of a faraway look in his eye.
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We figured he was probably working on a case in
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his head when that picture was snapped.
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One shining
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Sunday in the mid -1960s,
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Grandma and
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Grandpa visited our fam ily.
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We lived up in
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Peek skill, on the banks of the
Hudson,
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My parents, five brothers,
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three sisters, and me.
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As I recall, we girls were with
Grandma,
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Having cookies and tea in the living room.
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In the field next to our
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house were the boys,
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Playing baseball that afternoon.
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The field next to our house
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was really a long sloping hill.
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Home plate was at the bottom of that hill,
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the pitcher's mound was part way up the hill,
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then there was the infield,
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and the outfield was all the way up against the side of our house,
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but nobody ever played that far back,
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because nobody could ever hit that far, with the angle and all.
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So there I was, looking out the window,
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watching my brothers play baseball.
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Then I went back to listening to
Grandma tell us stories.
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I didn't know where
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Grandpa was, but I figured, like always,
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he was off in the corner some where
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working.
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But he wasn't.
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Never before an d never since
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Something big happened that day
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Grand pa put his work pa pers aside
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He told my brothers he wanted to play
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He took off his jacket,
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he undid his bowtie
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My brother
Greg was pitching,
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he wound up and let it fly
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Grand pa connected, he hit that ball high,
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high, high, high, high
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Grand ma was telling us
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another story about
New
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York in the olden days
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Be fore there was a
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George
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Wash ington
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Bridge,
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Em pire
State
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Building, even sub ways.
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All of a sudden, the windows shattered.
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We all jumped up to see
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what could the matter be.
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To the floor, cups and saucers clattered.
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We saw the baseball,
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wondered who could the batter be.
Eeeeee -ah!
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We ran to the window and looked
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through the broken glass
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And there, at the bottom of the hill
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Stood our dear grand pa,
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lean ing on his bat
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Smil ing his guts out, enjoying the thrill
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Forty years later,
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we can still picture him proud
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Has a peacock puffed up with joy
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The only time we ever wit nessed our
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Grand pa
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Just being one of the boys
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Grand pa was one of the boys
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you
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