The RampartWhen he started to play, the cat would run and hide behind the bedWell, his right foot stomped the pedals and his left foot stomped the floorHis wrinkled hands would skip the keys, that couldn't play no moreHe'd play on with Christian soldiers and the windowways would shakeWhen the man of 87 played his old 88The piano sat in a corner on a sagging hardwood floorOn top was a frame I made for him with a picture of the LordA faded Baptist hymnal took its place above the keysWe'd take turns sitting by him, his nod would turn the pageWell, his right foot stomped the pedals and his left foot stomped the floorHis wrinkled hands would skip the keys, that couldn't play no moreHe'd play on with Christian soldiers and the windowways would shakeWhen the man of 87 played his old 88Well, the old piano's silent now, it don't ring with joy no moreExcept sometimes when the cat jumps down when there's someone at the doorI can see him running, I can see him running, I can see him runningI can see him up in heaven with a smile upon his faceWhen God and all the angels let him lead amazing graceWell, his right foot stomped the pedals and his left foot stomped the floorHis wrinkled hands would skip the keys, that couldn't play no moreHe'd play on with Christian soldiers and the windowways would shakeWell, his right foot stomped the pedals and his left foot stomped the floorHis wrinkled hands would skip the keys, that couldn't play no moreExcept sometimes when the cat jumps down when there's someone at the doorHe'd play on with Christian soldiers and the windowways would shakeWell, his right foot stomped the pedals and his left foot stomped the floorHe'd play on with Christian soldiers and the windowways would shakeWhen the man of 87 played his old 88