Granny is a singer
Like no other in the land.
She doesn’t need rehearsals
And she doesn’t need a band.
Her voice is like an angel’s,
Floating upwards and away.
If she’d have entered Popstars
She’d have blown them all away.
Granny is a dancer
Like no other in the land.
She twirls around the ballroom
With her partner in her hand.
She went up to Termonfeckin
For a Termonfeckin dance,
And all the other hopefuls
Stood no Termonfeckin chance.
Granny draws a picture
Like no other in the land.
Sketching works of beauty
With eraser in her hand.
She captures light and shadow
And each subtle shade and mood,
But draws the line, Thank God,
At painting Grandad in the nude.
Granny is a cardsharp
Like no other in the land.
Slipping cards from down her sleeve
When she’s a rotten hand.
Her game is bridge, she doesn’t care
For knockout or gin rummy
For if she ever loses, she can
Always blame the dummy.
Granny plays the bingo
Like no other in the land.
Each Tuesday night, she sits there poised
With marker in her hand.
And if someone shouts out “House!”
When she is waiting on the prize,
She’ll mutter vague aspersions
And she’ll give them dagger eyes.
Granny is a granny
Like no other in the land.
Protecting her grand-children from
Their parents’ evil hand.
She’s always there when needed
As they grow up and they thrive.
Let’s hope that she will stick around
For another sixty-five.
Like no other in the land.
She doesn’t need rehearsals
And she doesn’t need a band.
Her voice is like an angel’s,
Floating upwards and away.
If she’d have entered Popstars
She’d have blown them all away.
Granny is a dancer
Like no other in the land.
She twirls around the ballroom
With her partner in her hand.
She went up to Termonfeckin
For a Termonfeckin dance,
And all the other hopefuls
Stood no Termonfeckin chance.
Granny draws a picture
Like no other in the land.
Sketching works of beauty
With eraser in her hand.
She captures light and shadow
And each subtle shade and mood,
But draws the line, Thank God,
At painting Grandad in the nude.
Granny is a cardsharp
Like no other in the land.
Slipping cards from down her sleeve
When she’s a rotten hand.
Her game is bridge, she doesn’t care
For knockout or gin rummy
For if she ever loses, she can
Always blame the dummy.
Granny plays the bingo
Like no other in the land.
Each Tuesday night, she sits there poised
With marker in her hand.
And if someone shouts out “House!”
When she is waiting on the prize,
She’ll mutter vague aspersions
And she’ll give them dagger eyes.
Granny is a granny
Like no other in the land.
Protecting her grand-children from
Their parents’ evil hand.
She’s always there when needed
As they grow up and they thrive.
Let’s hope that she will stick around
For another sixty-five.
No comments:
Post a Comment