A poem about ageing bladders.
Jumper on the bridge has been standing there for hours
The traffic has been stopped and drivers moods are turning sour
It's round about this time that you're starting to see
You really shouldn't have had that second cup of tea
Cross your legs and whistle, won't do you any good
A bladder like a football is the only thing that would
Or maybe if you'd listened and done so many more
Of those special exercises for your pelvic floor
I cannot emphasise enough the following advice
Follow it to the letter or end up paying the price
When you're setting out to begin your next journey
Do your very best to squeeze out an insurance wee
The traffic has been stopped and drivers moods are turning sour
It's round about this time that you're starting to see
You really shouldn't have had that second cup of tea
Cross your legs and whistle, won't do you any good
A bladder like a football is the only thing that would
Or maybe if you'd listened and done so many more
Of those special exercises for your pelvic floor
I cannot emphasise enough the following advice
Follow it to the letter or end up paying the price
When you're setting out to begin your next journey
Do your very best to squeeze out an insurance wee