I am most excellently cold,
My breath hangs all around me in a mist,
I'm ninety seven years old,
But warm inside, because I'm pissed.
Our jollies in Balmoral are
The freest times we have, by far,
We sit and freeze, hour after hour,
Beside the old electric fire,
And if I'm good, do all I'm told,
Then Liz lets me switch on one bar.
No comments:
Post a Comment