Grandad
If you come around to mourn for Grandad don't dress up in black‚ 'cause
Although me Grandad's dead and buried, odds-on he'll be back, yes
Although they stuffed him in a coffin and read out the will, and
Although he's six foot deep in darkness he'll never lie still
He's made of sterner stuff
He's not dead enough
Angels, saints and seraphim
Please, please will you try to keep an eye
On him

On his ninetieth birthday Grandad went down for a drink, now
Me Grandad is a rabid dipso with a throat like a sink, he
Drank himself toward the skyline and his friends to the floor, just
To prove how fit he was for boozing for ninety years more
Your pearly gates he'll climb
When it's opening time
Angels, saints and seraphim
You'll, you'll find it hard to keep a guard
On him

They brought him home upon a handcart with his legs in the air, he
Was singing Rule Britannia backwards in his underwear, he
Challenged all the county police force to a fight right away, then
He offered to put the Ladies' Union in the family way
Your crystal domes will shake
When he makes his break
Angels, saints and seraphim
He'll give you the slip, so get a grip
On him
The doctor lifted up an eyelid and pronounced him gone, but
To judge from Grandad's finger signals the doctor was wrong, they
Dressed him in his Sunday night-shirt, they combed out his hair, but
They couldn't get my Grandad's boots off, he'd need them up there
Your silken wings he'll shed
He will paint Paradise red
Angels, saints and seraphim
Please, please don't expect that much respect
From him

Even at the solemn moment he wouldn't behave, for
I heard him whistling in his coffin on his way to the grave, he
Took off toward the New Jerusalem with his pinch of salt, I
Distinctly heard him flatulating in his marble vault
Your candles will be dimmed
When he gets the wind
Angels, saints and seraphim
Although he's old
Although he's cold
Keep a tight hold on him