I’d been for a wazz, washed my hands, furthermore
I’d put on my coat and I’d locked the back door
I’d got in the car when I heard Gert implore,
“Get moving”, but I said to her then
“I need a quick tinkle again”.
Our Gert took me shopping, under duress,
But the shirts that I tried were all XOS
Now for 60 I’m slim and good-looking, I guess
(More handsome the more that I’ve drunk!)
So I reckon their sizes have shrunk.
I went for some wallpaper at B & Q
I raced to the checkout (I needed the loo)
Says the girl at the counter, “You know there’s a queue?”
So I says to the minx “Get ‘em sold.
Can you not see that I’m old?”
My hairstyle resembles a sparse shredded wheat
I can’t stand the cold and I can’t stand the heat
I’ve shakes in my hands and I’ve corns on my feet
I wear trousers like other old gits
Belted up under my tits.
At the disco I showed my kids where it’s at
When up on the dancefloor I move like a cat
But they reckoned instead that I just looked a twat
And both bellowed out with a frown
“Dad, for Chrissake willya sit down!?”
I’d gone up the stairs to get ready for bed
It had turned 8 o’clock, it has to be said
When a vacuous feeling came into my head
A sensation I’ve come to abhor
“What did I come up here for?”.
At one time my prick di’n’t know how to behave
And hours of enjoyment and pleasure it gave
It stood in the mornings observing me shave
But now it don’t give two hoots
And watches me tieing my boots.
But there’s one pleasure left for a silly old berk
I’ve Lloyd George to thank for this precious perk
An old gimmer’s revenge on those still at work
A source of considerable tension
At least I shall draw a state pension.