I can’t do Monday I’m afraid, I’ve got to be somewhere

Uncle Bob has popped his clogs, I’ve promised I’ll be there

Another blooming funeral, they’re every other week

I bet right now someone I know is croaking as I speak

 

The Oldies in my life these days are dying thick and fast

I’ve got a nasty feeling poor old Bob won’t be the last

It’s made me realise though - I can’t waste any time

I need to write my bucket list - I’ll soon be next in line

 

The trouble is I’m struggling to think of things to do

I’m not all that adventurous, don’t long for pastures new

I wouldn’t risk a bungie jump or dive out of a plane

I did a zip wire once - I won’t do that again!

 

I don’t want to hike through jungles, that doesn’t interest me

The same goes for safaris - I can watch them on TV

I couldn’t sail the oceans single-handed in a race

And I’d hate to fly with Virgin and be shot up into space

 

The only thing I’d like to do is see the Northern Lights

But I’d demand my money back if I got cloudy nights

I wouldn’t want to take a chance, to travel all that way

If they can’t give a guarantee you’ll get a good display

 

Just writing out a bucket list requires vitality

I’m struggling to raise enthusiasm - feeling apathy

So I’ll leave all that to others, adventures aren’t for me

I’m not going anywhere - home is where I’ll be!