Grandma’s Pickle Jar
Daddy was a hustling kid, but had much bigger dreams
Destined for the steel mills, till Grandma intervened
Sent him off to law school, admitted to the bar
Justice comes in trickles … thanks to Grandma’s Pickle Jar
My sister walked the wild side, breakin’ all the rules
Heading down that lonely road to almost certain ruin
She runs a children’s clinic, in far off Zanzibar
Brings health, hope and tickles … thanks to Grandma’s Pickle Jar
Grandma was a dumpster diver
Back alley filled shopping cart driver
She kept all her earnings in an old pickle jar
We didn’t understand, Grandma had a plan
Nickels not pickles, made us who we are.
My daughter is a singer, turning stories into rhyme
Every time she’s on the stage, Grandma comes to mind
All her hits were written, on a custom made guitar
Bought with quarters, dimes and nickels … thanks to Grandma’s Pickle Jar
That pickle jar’s still with me, sitting on the floor
Like a bank with dreams and promise, she opened up the door
From Grandma down to Daddy, from Daddy down to me
Invest in love and promise … be all that you can be.
© 2018 Murray Little (SOCAN) & Gerald Robert Chartier (SOCAN). Used by Permission. All Rights Reserved.