Rise Up - Lyrics - Fat And Frantic

There's a little old man lives down our street; Stands six foot two in his stockinged feet. There's a funny old woman lives next door; She's written seven novels and a book about the war. Now little's a term that's pretty loose, And funny's getting close to abuse. They ain't little or funny, so ain't we bold To patronise them 'cos they're old? Rise up before the hoary-headed, Get up off your seat. Show some respect, stand up young man, Get up, get on your feet. Don't make no weak excuses, Just keep those pensions high. Rise up before the hoary-headed Poke you in the eye! Rise up! Now Arthur Davis, he lived alone, In a proud and independent home. They found him lying on his bedroom floor. His dignity thrown out the door. Well, he didn't know why he felt so weak, And he dribbled when he tried to speak. They said, "You're lucky to be alive" And treated him like he was five. Rise up before the hoary-headed, Get up off your seat. Show some respect, stand up young man, Get up, get on your feet. Don't make no weak excuses, Just keep those pensions high. Rise up before the hoary-headed Poke you in the eye! Rise up! Rise up! It's seems the misconception's rife: The old don't need a proper life; And when you're old you just don't care; Your brains all fall out with your hair. Oh, now, please don't think I'd dream Of saying anything too extreme; But I hope when I reach 83 I get a bit more than sympathy! Rise up before the hoary-headed, Get up off your seat. Show some respect, stand up young man, Get up, get on your feet. Don't make no weak excuses, Just keep those pensions high. Rise up before the hoary-headed Poke you in the eye! Rise up before the hoary-headed Poke you in the eye! Rise up!