My husband is so old, he's got one foot in the grave and the other's still in bed.
If i can hear him breathing then i know he isn't dead.
I tried to remember, all the good years that he gave, before he wound up with one foot in the grave.
His rookie days are over, and his pilot light is out.
What used to be his sex appeal is now a water spout.
Time was when of it's own accord from his trousers it would spring, but now it seems a full-time job to find the lousy thing.
He's got one foot in the grave and the other's still in bed.
If i can hear him breathing then i know he isn't dead.
I tried to remember, all the good years that he gave, before he wound up with one foot in the grave.
The first time that he wound my clock was on our wedding day.
So strong it was, it struck the hour each and every day.
His spring has since grown weaker, and more feeble is its tick.
For now it either beats too slow or runs too blasted quick.
He's got one foot in the grave and the other's still in bed.
If i can hear him breathing then i know he isn't dead.
I tried to remember all the good years that he gave before he wound up with one foot in the grave.
I remember in his younger days the way it would behave.
Why each and every morning, it would stand and watch him shave.
But he is so much older, and it makes me feel so blue, to see it hang its withered head, and watch him tie his shoe.
He's got one foot in the grave and the other's still in bed.
If i can hear him breathing then i know he isn't dead.
I tried to remember all the good years that he gave, before he wound up with one foot in the grave.

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