The House on Jefferson Avenue (a remembrance of my grandparents, by Eddie Biggins)

The House on Jefferson Avenue (Eddie Biggins) We’d crunch down the gravel driveway and head around the back ‘Cause family never used the front door The screen door slapped shut as we stepped into that bright kitchen That took up nearly half the first floor And Nana peeked out from the pantry And Grandpa smiled in welcome too So we’d know we were a part Of the family at the heart Of the house on Jefferson Avenue Our Nana would serve us drinks in Welch’s jelly jars With the Beatles or the Flintstones on the side If the weather was good then we’d run out into the back yard And take that magic glider for a ride And Mom would yell, “Don’t go so high now If you flew off what would you do?” And though she probably was right We’d already taken flight At the house on Jefferson Avenue There was a music box with a geisha doll on top Delicately turning in the den Now every time that I hear “Für Elise” I’m right back there again Our Grandpa would tell us stories about the “olden days” Half-inve