Words & Music: Jake ThackrayClick here to download guitar tabIf you come around to mourn for Grandad don't dress up in black‚ 'cosAlthough me Grandad's dead and buried, odds-on he'll be back, yes.Although they stuffed him in a coffin and read out the will, andAlthough he's six foot deep in darkness he'll never lie still.He's made of sterner stuff, he's not dead enough.Angels, saints and seraphimPlease, please will you try to keep an eyeOn him.On his ninetieth birthday, Grandad went down for a drink. NowMe Grandad is a rabid dipso with a throat like a sink. HeDrank himself toward the skyline and his friends to the floor justTo prove how fit he was for boozing for ninety years more.Your pearly gates he'll climb when it's opening time.Angels, saints and seraphimYou'll, you'll find it hard to keep a guardOn him.They brought him home upon a handcart with his legs in the air. HeWas singing Rule Britannia backwards in his underwear. HeChallenged all the county police force to a fight right away, thenHe offered to put the Ladies' Union in the family way.Your crystal domes will shake when he makes his breakAngels, saints and seraphimHe'll give you the slip, so get a gripOn him.The doctor lifted up an eyelid and pronounced him gone. ButTo judge from Grandad's finger signals the doctor was wrong. TheyDressed him in his Sunday night-shirt, they combed out his hair, butThey couldn't get my Grandad's boots off, he'd need them up there.Your silken wings he'll shed. He will paint Paradise red.Angels, saints and seraphimPlease don't expect that much respectFrom him.Even at the solemn moment he wouldn't behave, forI heard him whistling in his coffin on his way to the grave. HeTook off toward the New Jerusalem with his pinch of salt. IDistinctly heard him flatulating in his marble vault.Your candles will be dimmed when he gets the wind.Angels, saints and seraphimAlthough he's old, although he's cold,Keep a tight holdOn him.
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