| One of the fondest memories that I have as a child |
| Was of my old grandmother who was gentle meek and mild |
| Sunday morning always found her dressed in finest lace |
| Then we’d go to church and sing God’s grace |
| Glory hallelujah that’s what grandma sang |
| She had to be the happiest person that I’ve ever seen |
| She’d clap her hands sing a song about Jesus set her free |
| And the Lord didn’t mind that my grandma sang off key |
| People used to joke about my grandma being loud |
| For you could hear her singing far above the crowd |
| Preacher Bill would laugh at her and then he’d say to me |
| Wish we had more people who could sing off key |
| Then came that final Sunday I sat in church alone |
| And whispered to the Lord I know You had to take her home |
| But I sure miss the way my grandma used to sing for me |
| And I really didn’t mind when she sang off key |
| Now she’s gone to heaven at last her soul’s at rest |
| Now she’s singing with the choir that has to be the best |
| And every Sunday I can hear the angels sing for me |
| But above the rest I hear one voice that’s singing off key |