There’s allus a dribble that’s left

Though I’m ever so careful an’ deft

At tapping my todger;

For this useless codger

There’s allus a dribble that’s left.

At one time I’d piss like an ‘orse

Wi perfect precision an’ force;

In those days I ‘ad a

Right beast of a bladder

That could ‘old back the Nile at its source.

On car trips to far destinations

I stop off at all service stations

And at every one

The staff all call “John!

A cuppa? Or just urination?”

An’ if I should go to the “Men’s”

I’ve no sooner washed my hands when

(I swear I’m no liar)

The sound of the drier

Means I’ve to tinkle again.

The doctor’s inspected my bum

(She smiled as she slipped in ‘er thumb);

She says if I lost weight

The chances my prostate

Would ‘old out were second to none.

For answers to this I’m bereft;

Did I mention I’m careful an’ deft?

Though I shake it wi’ vigour

(Sometimes it gets bigger)

But there’s allus a dribble that’s left.