What a job our feet must have,
When they walk along the road,
Can you imagine what they’re doing,
They’re carrying a heavy load.

Legs and arms, bum and head,
They must feel like a lump of lead,
No wonder that our feet get sore,
It really must be quite a bore.

They can’t see where their going,
Cause the body’s got them covered,
The hands put on some socks,
Or even some new tights.

And then its bye, bye daylight,
Until it gets to night,
Then when they get their freedom,
They wiggle all about.

Thin blankets land upon them,
And they want to give a shout,
Let us see daylight,
Like the rest of you.

Like your legs and arms,
And things,
No matter cause it’s very plain,
We’re on a bit of string.