Razor Sharp

Razor Sharp

My memory is not too bad, for a person of my age,
There are quite a lot of friends I can recall,
In fact, sometimes I am classed as a bit of an old ‘sage’,
For the way my sharp mind thinks about them all.

There was ‘Whatsit’, from the crescent, ‘married ‘er from up the chase,’
And they had a lad called ‘oojar’, he had spots upon his face,
Then ‘Thingy’ from the entry, he wasn’t very big,
And his cousin, – now don’t tell me, – yes, I’ve got it, ‘Thingymajig’.

I know there was that ‘Whatsername’, she used to live with ‘I’m’,
The one who married ‘Thingymabob’, who used to drink the gin,
There was that chap from down the Oak Lane, I think they called I’m ‘Tich’,
He had a ‘Whatyacallit’, he drove it in a ditch.

It’s no wonder they all come to me for all the latest news,
To find out all the happenings, and hear my pointed views,
For with my razored memory, I think that you will find,
I ought to be a contestant, on Mastermind.

Mick.