Where Are My Keys?
My children say I am growing old,
And practically loosing my mind.
That’s disrespectful, they’ve been told;
Some courtesy, you’d think they could find.
I’m growing wiser with every year;
My mind getting sharper each day.
Loosing my hair is my only fear;
I’m getting better in every other way.
So show some respect for you father dear,
And revere him if you would please.
And now I’d like to get out of here,
If only I could find my keys!
(Why can't I find my keys?)
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