My uncle Albertís a hundred today
Youíd never think it to look at him,
He hops around like a seventy-year old
But his eyes are now a bit dim.
His hearing isnít as good as it was,
And he does need a stick to walk,
But you never get a word in edgeways
When Albert starts to talk.
According to the family
Heís been a bit of a lad,
I know heís been married twice before
And mistresses heís had.
I shouldnít have taken him shopping this week
He started acting queer,
I had to disentangle him
From the arms of the blonde cashier.
I managed to get him back in the car
To drive him home to Bordon,
His one ambition was to grab
The female traffic warden.
Heís so darned independent
He wonít go into a Home,
But no womanís really safe from him
When heís living on his own.
I donít know what weíll do with him
We canít put him in a cage,
But I must admit I hope Iím as fit,
If ever I get to his age.