My grandpa has a music box,

That plays a pretty chime.

He tells me he got it in the war,

It cost him half a dime.

He says he gave it to his girl,

The one with big blue eyes.

At twenty-two she gave it back,

When he went out to fly.

My grandpa has a music box,

It's only very small.

He tells me that it once looked like

A shiny wooden ball.

He says he kept it in his pocket

When he went out to fight.

And when he came back bloodied and sore

He played it through the night.

My grandpa has a music box

With a miniature brass key.

He tells me that when I'm older

He'll pass it down to me.

He says that when he came back home

To his girl sometime in spring.

He dropped down on one knee

And used it as a ring.

My grandpa has a music box

And I listen to it with glee.

And in my dreams I hear it play

It's sweet, sweet music to me.