THE GOOLDEN DAYS
They call it the golden days
Why I am not sure
I'm still waiting for my pot
I am sure they must mean
I'm waiting for my pot of gold
I think it is a pot alright
Of a different sort
Good old Arthur came to see me
He knows not when to leave
Invades my territory
Torments me when I sleep
I'm going to a warmer climate
Good old arthur he's following me
I can't get my mind to work
It used to be so bright
I'd stand at attention but
My backs a little bent
My toes go with the flow
Out the sides of my shoes
There is a puddle by the toilet
I know the dog must have done it
I'll put depends on him
Now I lay me down to sleep
In the hopes I will awake
Soon I know my soul he wants to take
For now I am waiting for the golden days
While looking in my change purse for the gold
Somebody must have took it
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