Life can be mighty contrary, the have-nots down to the haves
From the normal ‘we’ up to posh and all the way down to the chavs
At school they teach you ardently to have a future plan
But things get pretty messed up when you have a pregnant Nan
Now everyone has an opinion, their bigoted, biased views
From the shrieking toffs at the Daily Mail to the Weekly World News
Two headed children, cloned sheep, we’re surrounded by this stuff
But nothing can prepare you for a gran that’s up the duff
To me she’s a graceful old lady, nipping down to the shops
Who thinks the ‘youth’ are punks who still watch top of the pops
To her neighbours she’s the lady with dogs, that nosy silly hag
But clearly to someone I don’t know, she’s well worthy of a shag
My sleepless mind cannot cope with this mess, I lie awake at night
Thinking who it might be who knocked her up, thinking she was alright
Some vicious seducer with the black tongue of a cad
Gave her tea and cake and the best shag she could ever have had
It’s odd the things one thinks of, when your nan’s going to be a mum
Did she get it in a gang bang? Does she take it up the bum?
Is she an ageing granny cougar, snaring young men on the prowl?
Aided by discreet and shady lighting, make-up slapped on with a trowel?
Does she hang around in chat rooms? Seek out young studs on the web?
Was this just a happy one-off or does she creak from bed to bed?
Does she coochy-coo with the bingo boys and flash her wrinkled ruby lips?
Then get them home for gin and tonics to oil her new metal hips?
Nothing good will come of this offspring, of pensioner and snake
It might pop out bow-legged and barmy, she’s 61 for heavens sake!
With ageing, static parents, it’ll be certain of A level history
But why my Nan thinks she should sprog is still a massive mystery