I recall the good old days. But thankfully they've gone. Now the ponies all are broken nags. That stumble as they groan. And throw the jockeys from their throne. When there are pitches left to dodge. And lions left to tame. But it's nothing but a dirty rotten shame. It's a dirty rotten shame. That when you're frivolous and strong. It isn't youth its fearlessness. That has been wasted on the young. The cruel are in the cradle. And the bishop's in the bag. It's nothing but a dirty rotten shame. Now I find life a millionaire. That brags for rags and jewels. A snarling pup is wild enough. But as his anger proves. He's left to sharpen useless tools. That tear and graze and finer phrase. But few are worth the name. It's nothing but a dirty rotten shame. It's a dirty rotten shame. And that is not an idle boast. When all your courage and your strength. Will leave you as you need it most. When there are lamps to dampen. And cauliflowers to flip. It's nothing but a dirty rotten shame.