Текст песни Grandmother Soil and The Grandfather Clock - Deborah Stokol

Our days will be numbered
But they'll still count
The Grandfather Clock
With his chimes and his clout

What are your forebears
If not your past
And maybe a glimpse of
Your future at last

He came from the big town
Moved to the small town
For teaching and love
A philosopher from above

He knew of the soil
A scholar whose toil
Ranged far and quite deep
From knowledge couldn't keep him

A mistress of cooking
Of knitting and sewing
Was the youngest of five
For her loved ones did thrive

If a child would ask her
To forge something masterful
She'd do it without the page
A teacher and a sage

Our days will be numbered,
But they'll still count
The Grandfather Clock
With his chimes and his clout

What are your forebears
If not your past
And maybe a glimpse of
Your future at last

He was also a professor
Lived nobly, did bless her
Fond of sacredness, he
Precise, neat, and free

She tickled the ivories
Wove fabric so nicely
Bright colors so near
And her young ones so dear

Had ties to the old country
Like others, loved history
Fled Home when quite small
Before The War cast its pall

We shared letters
And visits, even better
They gave love
So tender, like doves

I tell you I miss them
Was lucky to have them
They live on within
So let's sing of them

He had mirth in his mustache
Had warmth in her embrace
Both dignified and kind
They left much behind

Good in his sweaters
Queen's English to the letter
She loved us; we knew
Their memory, hold true

Our days will be numbered
But they'll still count
The Grandfather Clock
With his chimes and his clout

What are your forebears
If not your past
And maybe a glimpse of
Your future at last