I want to pay back,
All the joy he's provided,
Returning each deed,
Oh, he'll be so excited.

When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

I'll write on the wall,
With red, white, and blue,
And bounce on the furniture,
Wearing my shoes.

I'll drink from the carton,
And then leave it out.
I'll stuff all the toilets,
And oh, he will shout!

When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

When he's on the phone,
And just out of reach,
I'll get into things,
Like the sugar and bleach.

Oh, he'll snap his fingers,
And then shake his head,
And when he is done,
I'll hide under the bed.

When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

When my son's wife cooks dinner,
And calls me to meals,
I'll not eat my green beans,
Or salads congealed.

I'll gag on my okra,
Spill milk on the table,
And when she gets angry,
Run as fast as I'm able.

When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

I'll sit close to the TV,
Thru the channels I'll click,
I'll cross both my eyes,
To see if they stick.

I'll take off my socks,
And throw one away,
And play in the mud,
Until the end of the day.

When I'm an old lady and live with my son.

And later, in bed,
I'll lay back and sigh,
And thank God in prayer,
And then close my eyes.

Then my son will look down,
With a smile slowly creeping,
And say with a groan,
"She's so sweet when she's sleeping."