Woorden: Rolf Harris. Burgular Bold.

I'll sing you a song of a burgular bold, who tried to rob a house.
He open'd the window and crept right in, as quiet as a mouse.
He said to himself, 'I'll hide away 'til ev'ryone is asleep.
Then, quick as a flash, I'll take their cash and out of the house I'll creep.
So he hid himself right under the bed, hard up against the wall.
But he hadn't a clue who owned the place or he'd never have stayed at all.
He never thought, well he never knew as under the bed he lay,
That in the night he'd see a sight that'd turn all his hair to grey.

At nine o'clock the owner came in, 'I'm tired as tired,' she said.
And thinking that night that all was right, she didn't look under the bed.
She took out her teeth and her old glass eye and the hair from off her head.
And the burgular bold turned icy cold with panic beneath the bed.

He waited for hours, then out he crept, he felt a total wreck.
But the old maid, she was still awake and she grabbed him by the neck.
She never screamed or fainted away but calm as any clam,
She said 'My prayers are answered, oh thank heaven, I've found a man.'

She whipped a revolver from under the pillow and to the burgular said,
'Young fellow, you'll have to marry me now or I'll blow off the top of your head!'
She held him tight and the burgular knew there wasn't a chance to scoot.
He looked at her teeth and he heaved a sigh at the ghastly wig and the old glass eye,
the coy little smile, the provocative pose, and the varicose veins on the end of her nose.
He said 'Lady, for Pete's sake, shoot!'