Hello Mrs Murphy That's a lovely dress you're wearing Is it new Why, thank you Mr Wilson But I've had that same old dress about a year or two Upstairs in bed, the tall boy stretched just like a cat Put his hands behind his head And lay there thinking of a dream that he had
I hear that the Johnsons had a baby, Mrs Murphy Is that true Why yes, but it's rumoured that the little tot's real daddy lives in 22
In 22, the boy lay whistling out of tune Fighting on the seas Dreaming of a thousand things he'd like to be
Poor Mr Johnson being married to a wife who should be caged It's the child who will suffer And to think that young man is less than half her age
Upstairs he sits, he hears a knock, and nothing more Come on in, you're late Well, don't just stand there Mrs. Johnson Close the door
