Crawling round on the carpet, trying to find a foothold, toes ensnared in nylon shag, the furniture must have been sold.

Crawling round on the carpet,
trying to find a foothold,
toes ensnared in nylon shag,
the furniture must have been sold.

As my breath obscures the view,
I’m glad to see my own toes free,
Happy between blades of grass,
That separate the ground from me.

As I turned to see where I was,
A funeral rolled down the hill,
they all argued whos was what,
one man stould stock still.

Did we see the coffin move?
When up jumped uncle dick,
cut the back doors of the herse,
with his pension book and stick.

The crows jumped back in dissaray,
i fell down a great big hole,
just in time to miss his stick,
lashing out to and fro.