There was an old lady who lived in the street,
Her passage was blocked up from too much to eat,
She took stomach pills without reading the box,
Before she could think turds were flying for blocks.
Too-ra-li, too-ra-li, too-ra-lay, too-ra-lay,
A rolling stone gathers no moss so they say,
Sing along, sing along, with the birds, with the birds,
It's a wonderful song but it's all about turds.
Well she ran to the window and stuck out her arse,
Just at that moment a p'liceman came past,
That poor old p'liceman was eating his pie,
Whena steaming hot turd hit him right in the eye,
Well he ran to the East and he ran to the West,
When a further consignment hit him right in the chest,
Well he fled to the North and he fled to the South,
When a bloody great turd hit him right in the mouth.
The next time you walk over Waterloo bridge,
Look out for a p'liceman asleep on the ridge,
His chest bears a plackard, around it these words,
"Be kind to this cop who's been blinded by turds"