It’s 9:05 on a Sunday morn,
The 39th ward straggles in.
The bishop comes up to me
And says, “It’s time to begin.”
He says, “Eric, can you play us some prelude, please?
Something to set the right tone.
If you play it just right, it might make them be quiet,
And then we’ll get this show on the road.”
La-la-da-diddy-da
La-la-diddy-da-la-la-la
Play us some hymns, you’re the piano man,
Play us some hymns today.
We don’t mean to enslave you, but it’s the calling we gave you,
Besides, you’re the only one who can play.
I’m asked to accompany soloists
Who sing at farewells for missionaries.
They sing that song I can’t stand, “In the Hollow of thy Hand,
By that brilliant composer Janice Kapp Perry.
And today we’re singing “Sweet Hour of Prayer”
For the 27th time this year.
Oh, that song was really nice until I’d played it twice;
Since then, it’s gotten tiresome, I fear.
La-la-la-diddy-da
Play really well, Mr. Piano Man,
It’s the only job you’ll ever do.
Playing three songs a week must be quite a feat,
And we don’t wanna overwork you.
I practice about 17 hours a day,
No time to go look for a wife.
And it’s a little bit scary, but I’m playing for Primary
And probably will be for life
And I play in the lobby at Helaman Halls,
“On My Own” from “Les Miserables.”
The girls stand around me and each sing in a different key
And that makes my head start to throb.
La-la-la-diddy-da
La-la-diddy-da
On my own
Play some “Les Mis,” you’re the piano man,
Play some of “Phantom,” too.
Oh, all night we’ll stay here and say you’re a great player,
But we’ll never go out with you.
