Mother's gone, Father's gone
We think about them often
Uncle Fred is also dead
He's upstairs in his coffin
Aunty Jane has long since passed
Her sisters, too, have breathed their last
But now that lot have kicked the bucket
This random thought occurs: "Oh, fuck it!"

We're next
Next in line for the undertaker
Next in line to meet our Maker
It's all downhill from now on
It's us
Us who's due to run out of pep, it's
Us, our turn to become decrepit
That's if we happen to linger on

We will get old and smelly
We'll slump in front of the telly
Flabby of mind, flabby of belly
With that in mind, we will die

We're next
Soon to join our mater and pater
Slide us into the incinerator
It's all downhill from now on
Syrup of figs
Incontinence pants
Neighbours who think that you're odd
Wardrobe of beige
'Where are me teef?'
A panicked belief in God
Papery skin
Could easily bruise
Old age ain't for sissies, it's true
Terrible stiffness
Where you don't want it
And never where you do

We're next
Next to grind to a complete full stop
Half our knick-knacks given to the charity shop
Still there's no point in hanging on
Line up
It's time to taste the afterlife ahead
And check whether Elvis is really dead
Let's face it, life is one big con

We'll sink into senescence
Our second adolescence
And after a spell on antidepressants
We'll think "oh shit!
This is it
Whoopee!"
When you're blind and deaf
And soaked in piss
You can be despatched
By somebody Swiss
It's all downhill from now
It's all downhill from now
It's all downhill