I’m thinking of buying a vest.

I’ve reached that time of life.

When I can slurp drinking a cup of tea.

And eat peas off of me knife.

 

I can start being rude to children.

And I’m learning to cough and spit.

I’m really quit looking forward.

To being a doddery old gitt.

 

I’ll grow a yellow moustache.

And force me grand kids to give me a kiss.

And I’ll buy a pair of them trousers

That permantly smell of piss.

 

I’ll bump into people in the street.

And hit them with me brolly.

And then I’ll go into Sainsberys.

And play havoc with me trolley.

 

I can buy a plastic shopping bag.

And let the handles fray.

And drink mild and bitter.

And moan if a’v to pay.

 

I’ll loos control of me bladder.

And get one of them bags instead.

So when I’ve a’d ten pints at night.

I don’t have to get out of bed.

 

So I’m going to be a doddery old git.

Just as soon as I can.

Or failing that I’ve half a mind

To be a dirty old man.