Run of the Place

They’d given Old Arthur the run of the place,

And you should have seen the smile on his face,

As he walked in his dressing gown, staring in space,

As he whistled the Warsaw Concerto.

They’d given Old Arthur a new woollen hat,

He looked pleased as Punch as he went out in that,

With his book of the prophets and raggedy cat,

That he knew as Louisa Alberto.

They’d given Old Arthur a picture of Bog,

Which he kept on the shelf with his seed catalogue,

Some small paper mice and a nice china dog,

That would snuffle your ankles and smell you.

They’d given Old Arthur the key to the gate,

Which was not all that shrewd, as I’ll tell if you’ll wait.

For he wandered outside and was killed by a truck,

Which quite spoiled his day, I can tell you.