Is that another lump I see?
Are my eyes all red and bloodshot?
Could this be the end of me?
Why are my kneecaps purple?
What's that stuff between my toes?
Is one arm longer than the other?
Should that really come out of my nose?
My Bottom's gone all spongey,
In the mirror it looks obscene,
My mum says not to worry,
But my Wilfred's turning green!
I'm going to see the doctor,
I'm sure that mole should not be there,
My armpits are sore and itchy,
And I'm growing strange blue hair!
When they lay me six foot under,
And the hole begin to fill,
Written on my tombstone,
"See, I told you I was ill!"
Whose pants would fill up with ripe cheese,
On a visit to Chester,
They filled with Red Leceister,
And Brie ran down to his knees.
Whose handbags smell of festering mould,
They are a quite horrific sight,
Prowling the streets on bingo nights.
Armed with frame or walking stick,
They may be old but they aint half quick,
They hunt the young for what they need,
Your youthful blood on which to feed.
Run away but it'll do you no good,
They'll hunt you down just for your blood,
I do not mean to cause you fright,
Just don't stay at Granny's on full moon night!