SEVEN OLD LADIES
Melody—Oh My, What Can the Matter Be?

CHORUS: Oh dear, what can the matter be?
Seven old ladies locked in the lavat'ry,
They were there from Sunday to Saturd'y,
Nobody knew they were there.

They said they were going to have tea with the Vicar,
They went in together, they thought it was quicker,
But the lavat'ry door was a bit of a sticker,
And the Vicar had tea all alone.

The first was the wife of a deacon in Dover,
And thought she was known as a bit of a rover,
She liked it so much she thought she'd stay over,
And nobody knew she was there.

The next old lady was old Mrs. Bickle,
She found herself in a desperate pickle,
Shut in a pay booth, she hadn't a nickel,
And nobody knew she was there.

The next was the Bishop of Chichester's daughter,
She went in to pass some superfluous water,
She pulled on the chain and the rising tide caught her,
And nobody knew she was there.

The next old lady was Abigale Humphrey,
Who settled inside to make herself comfy,
And then she found out she could not get her bum free,
And nobody knew she was there.

The next old lady was Elizabeth Spender,
Who was doing all right till a vagrant suspender,
Got all twisted up in her feminine gender,
And nobody knew she was there.

The last was a lady named Jennifer Trim,
She only sat down on a personal whim,
But she somehow got pinched 'twixt the cup and the brim,
And nobody knew she was there.

But another old lady was Mrs. McBligh,
Went in with a bottle of booze on the sly,
She jumped on the seat and fell in with a cry,
And nobody knew she was there.