Don’t let me die in trainers or in a hospital gown.
Let me die with dignity my last written word shouldn’t be a disclaimer.
Let me die chasing a gang of bank robbers or holding a mugger down.
Maybe even jiving to the proclaimers.

I can’t walk five hundred miles I’ve got arthritis in my toe.
I could drive five hundred miles but that would be the Faeroes.
I want to go with a bang but I won’t be a suicide bomber.
Ending up with a hundred virgins what a bummer.

I would rather have Brenda the dogs the beach hut and endless summer.
Hang on a minute I would miss the autumn mists.
And the winter haw frosts in the sun.
Oh sod it I’ll hang on there’s lots I haven’t done.