Arthur Arthur was a small man, a very small man indeed, he always had to wear stilts, Even when he pee'd

The Old Man Who Wears Brown Shoes And An Old Tweed Jacket See that old man over there with his hands deep in his pockets, to look at him you wouldn`t know that old man did build rockets. Never have I heard him speak not a word has he uttered, except that time I bumped into him, then he mumbled,groaned and muttered He wears brown shoes and an old tweed jacket, carries his newspaper under one arm, he walks quite quickly down the street with charisma and with charm. I`m sure I`ll pluck up the courage one day and say hello, every day he walks that street in wind,rain,hail or snow. But for now i`ll mind my business and i`m sure he`ll mind his too, but yesterday i found out that he died whilst on the loo.

Sunday Sunday Sunday is the day today, The morning after the night before, You got so drunk .. and ended up on the floor. Nursing your hangover, and wobbly legs, You'd probably be best off in bed? But you had a good night so you can't complain. But your friends perhaps you can't say the same, As they promised in the taxi "Not to drink again" You'll crawl out of bed, and run the bath and giggle to yourself "Last night was laugh" So you'll have a hot bath, And probably a fry up. Then the dishes you'll wash them and dry up, You'll go for a walk in Central Park Listen to the dogs as they pant and they bark. Maybe you'll bump into a friend? But you'll make sure you're home in time to watch. The afternoon movie on the goggle box, So as you sit there nursing your throbbing hangover, Your parents call and invite you over. A Sunday roast with all the trimmings, will certainly look and be very filling.. You talk with your family of the days gone by.. Someone will laugh so much it'll make them cry!, So as you get home from this typical day You'll think to yourself Oh how I love Sunday