My mother’s mother, her and no other,

Left each of her grandkids a wee bit of cash,

She said when she did, that she would forbid,

Us to spend it on rubbish, or anything flash.

Instead we should spend it, not squander or lend it,

On something with which she would gladly concur,

An item tremendous, she’d consider stupendous,

Something quite wondrous to remind us of her.

A carpet was bought, and a stunning antique,

An oil by an artist of burgeoning fame,

But I wanted a “special”, something unique,

To set my emotions aflame.

Though I did mourn her, in a shop round the corner,

I found what I wanted, it just fit the bill,

It had an echo of something art deco,*

And would test my artistry and my skill.

It was on show, in the shop’s large window,

And it ticked all the boxes by heck,

It was painted sludge green, but had a sound quite supreme,

And went by the name of Steck.

For those who don’t know, about this gizmo,

Peter Gabriel played it, of Genesis fame,

A melodic athlete, it has a tone really sweet,

And deserves a great deal of acclaim.

At the drop of a hat, it’s moved into our flat,

In our bedroom it’s taken a stand.

It’s tutti, it’s fruity, it’s a thing of great beauty,

It is our wonderful baby grand!

* A period I love!