Old socks tartan nightie what a sight it happens nightly.
Asked my friend where’s the right sock?
She said it’s all worn out gave it the chop,
I thought it was strange her left side must be heavy.

When laying in bed and she’s fast asleep,
He left foot is droopy until the dawn peeps.
She’s got no control her foot is in control,
My friend has to lie there and what she’s told.

Because her brain feels a little bit old,
It’s not just her feet that gives her this trouble,
You should hear her when blowing a bubble,
It’s like being on a firing range.

If you sit there and listen your brain’s disarranged,
I really don’t know what to do,
With someone who gets into such a stew,
I suppose it doesn’t really matter.

Cause I look at her and know I’m fatter,
I once got stuck in a revolving door me charlie got stuck.
Oh dear oh lor’ there’s not a lot to choose,
We’ve both got funny ways.

The one thing that I know we have some funny days,
When we start to giggle we nearly wet ourselves,
A pot should be behind our bums,
I think we’re ready to be shelved.

Old age has caught us up,
At last we’ve both slowed down and at half mast,
The silly things we say and do,
helps to take us each day through.