"Grandfather's Staff" (7 Mar 1883)
Beautiful Song & Chorus
Words and Music by B. M. McWilliams

Boston: White, Smith & Co., 516 Washington St.
Chicago: White, Smith & Co., 188 & 190 State St.
New York: Spear & Dehnhoff
San Francisco: I. L. A. Brodersen & Co.
Plate No. 4979-3
[Source: 04212@LoC]

1. Of the dear trembling form that old age had bent low,
And the face with its furrows of care,
A sweet dream comes again and the tears softly flow
As I glance at the lone empty chair
With the vision there steals on my ear, low and sad
Like a requiem from heaven’s bright shore,
A quaint sound that of yore made my heart light and glad
The sweet sound of the staff on the floor.

CHORUS [sung after each voice]
[with overlapping voices]
[SOPRANO]
With a soft, muffled jar, it would tap, tap, tap,
Keeping time to his tread on the floor;
But the old man now sleeps ’neath the tall, waving grass,
And his staff stands alone by the door. 
[ALTO]
With a soft, muffled jar, it would tap, tap, tap,
With a soft, muffled jar, tapping on the floor
But the old man now sleeps ’neath the tall, waving grass,
staff stands along, all alone by the door. 
[TENOR]
tap, tap, tap, with a soft muffled jar, 
Keeping time keeping time to his tread on the floor;
But the yes, yes, yes, ’neath the tall, waving grass,
And his staff stands alone all alone by the door. 
[BASS]
tap, tap, tap, tap tap, tap, with a soft, muffled jar,
keeping time to his tread on the floor;
But the yes, yes, yes, ’neath the tall, waving grass,
staff stands alone by the door. 


2. In the long long ago, when its slow measured beat
Would resound thro’ the parlor and hall,
How we children would hasten dear grandpa to meet;
For he e’er had a smile for us all.
We could tell by its tone when his spirits were gay,
Or when sorrow had made his heart sore,
And we often would hush our wild shouts when in play,
At the sound of the staff on the floor.

3. It shall ever remember when poor grandma died,
How its notes echoed forth from the gloom
As the old man would glide with the staff by his side,
Thro’ that silent and dismal front room
Every heart filled with grief as we laid her away
In the chuchyard to rest evermore,
But the saddest of all on that dark weary day,
Was the sound of the staff on the floor.

4. As it stands by the door, not a sound does it give—
It can feel neither pleassure or pain,
But the mem’ries that cluster around it shall live
Long to echo its once happy strain
’Neath the tall, waving grass, close by grandmother’s side,
Now he sleeps with his pilgrimage o’er,
And no more shall we hear, tho’ we often have sighed
For the sound of the staff on the floor.