Hello Mrs Murphy
That's a lovely dress you're wearing
Is it new

Why, thank you Mr Wilson
But I've had this same old dress
About a year or two

Upstairs in bed
The tall boy stretched just like a cat
Put his hands behind his head
And lay there thinking of a dream that he had

I hear that the Johnsons had a baby, Mrs Murphy
Is that true
Why yes, but it's rumoured that the little tot's real daddy
Lives in 22

In 22
The boy lay whistling out of tune
Fighting on the seas
Dreaming of a thousand things
He'd like to be

Poor Mr Johnson being married to a wife
Who should be caged
It's the child who will suffer and to think
That young man is less than half her age

Upstairs he sits, he hears a knock, and nothing more
Come on in, you're late
Well, don't just stand there Mrs. Johnson
Close the door.

