There's an old lady, she lives on my floor

She broke her hip last spring, she don't get out much anymore

She's up with all the phone in hosts

Though she don't care if she know 'em

And it was for her that I wrote this poem.

I ain't as old as I like to think I am

Sometimes I still get that lively feeling

I wanna clean the house or run a mile

Or try to jump up and slap the ceiling

Throw the furniture across the room

Sing to myself a little out of tune

Turn out the lights and hang a moon out the window at the neighborhood below

I sent a postcard to Jeopardy! Last year

It'd be a good excuse to get down to L.A.

I won a freezerful of beef on a phone-in show

My freezer's full but give it time, y'know

When I'm on, my luck is out of sight

But I work hard and I do alright

So let's have a barbeque tonight at my house!

If I sat down and counted my blessings

I'd be cheating if I got past two or three

So If I seem a bit wierded out sometimes

Just smile and nod and humour me

And this is Louie the Mute, say hello to him

And Maxie makes shoes out of soda straws

And that in the corner is Carlos;

He's got the biggest collection of bullwhips I bet you've ever seen!

And who cares if our friendship is discreet

Or if it's mainly because of the meat

Cos I'm completely happy tonight

Well, pretty close.

(Hey Carlos, can I touch them?)