Missing the old Cock
"Whats up we you mother.
As something got you down.
You look like you've found a threepenny bit
And lost a half a crown".
"I'm just sat here on my own
Thinking about the old lad.
I wish the old cock was here now.
Then things would'nt seem so bad.
I used to get on at him, you know.
For breaking wind and stinking.
I would give anything now, to hear him fart.
And I would'nt mind him drinking.
I'd love to be tucking his shirt lap in his drawers.
And making sure his fly was done up.
And taking him to bed when he got home at night.
All them times he'd had too much to sup.
I would'nt complain about shit on his lap
Or the snot that was all down his sleeve.
Or in the latter days when he pee'd down his leg.
I just wish he did'nt have to leave.
I wish he was here with us now.
And then I could kiss his bald head.
All the things I wish I'd have told him.
But now it's too late to be said.
It does'nt seem two minutes since he popped his clogs
Like Darby and Joan we used to be.
when I think about the old lad.
I wish the Lord would take me.
Now, come on mother, buck yourself up.
Dwelling on it is bound to be upsetting
And you know just what my father would say.
Now, Esther, you stop your fretting.
He would'nt want you sat here moping.
You know just what he'd say.
Come on our Ace. Get off your arse.
And make us a nice cup of tay.