When Joan is in her kitchen,
She’s lost within the food,
Her cupboards are all loaded,
I don’t mean to be rude.

Stuff she doesn’t know she’s got,
Some food she had began to rot,
There’re tins of stuff within the cupboard,
Joan reminds me of Mother Hubbard.

The freezer’s been defrosted,
That was really fun,
I was instantly amazed,
At what we had begun.

What if we emptied out the cupboards,
I wonder what would be in the back,
You don’t know what you’re going to find,
It could be nutty slack.

She forgets what she has bought,
And then she buys some more,
Doesn’t stop to think,
There isn’t spare room near the door.
But her storehouse is never empty,
There’s always something there,
It isn’t just in the kitchen,
It’s in the bedroom too.

There’re biscuits, they’re in bright array,
Cold drinks by where she lays,                                                                                                                            Best butter passes his lips.

Smokey’s quite content,
He’s got his food and got his bed,
And doesn’t have to pay no rent,
Yet being in her home really does me good.

I laugh at all her funny ways,
And what is more she laughs too,
The best thing she could ever do,
I really do torment her.

And say hit me hard she stretches out her arm,
And finds out that she can’t,
Because it isn’t long enough,
In any case she isn’t rough.

My friend to me is very special,
She always tries to please,
And takes life very casually,
With gracefulness and ease.

If there’s something she can’t find,
It will do until tomorrow,
Cause I’ll be there to find it,
And bring her from her sorrow.