[Verse] There’s dust on the needle, it crackles and spins, A song from the past where the memory begins. The old Victrola, it hums soft and low, Like a whisper from decades I used to know. [Verse 2] Granddad would play it on Saturday nights, By the glow of a lantern, in dim candlelight. The voice on the record would dance through the air, And carry us places we’d never been there. [Chorus] Oh, the old Victrola, it’s more than a sound, It’s a time machine, a treasure we found. With every old tune, a story unfolds, The past comes alive as the record rolls. [Verse 3] Mama would hum as she’d sway in her chair, While Daddy tapped time with a foot in the air. The room filled with laughter, the music so sweet, The old Victrola made life feel complete. [Bridge] Now it just sits there, a relic, a shrine, Its wooden case faded, its glory confined. But every so often, I’ll spin it once more, And feel like I’m back on that old creaky floor. [Chorus] Oh, the old Victrola, it’s more than a sound, It’s a time machine, a treasure we found. With every old tune, a story unfolds, The past comes alive as the record rolls.
