What do you do with the old ones?
The ones that are past, their glory gone by,
The ones that didn't win, however they try,
The ones that did win, but later turned shy,
The first one you bought, that had a light eye.
They're eating their heads off, the food bills are
high.
What do you do with the old ones?
Find them good homes, the answer is clear,
But the only good home that mine wants is here.
Their own special sofa, covered with hairs,
They all cut their teeth on the dining room chairs.
The safe and familiar paths of their days,
The garden, the outing, their own funny ways
That only I know... and even their food
If not given by me, wouldn't taste half as good.
So now I'm deep in old ones, who're not good at all
Who clutter the sitting room, kitchen and hall,
Who need to be brushed, to be walked, to be fed,
Who only want me to put them to bed!
They're faithful and loving and set in their ways,
So I'm stuck with them all, for the rest of their
days,
But I have to confess that when we do have to part
I'll miss them so much... it will just break my heart.
