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(These are the words he would be singing if he was with us today)

   Are you lonesome tonight, does your tummy feel tight? Did you bring your Mylanta and Tums?
Does your memory stray, to that bright sunny day... When you had all your teeth and your gums?

Is your hairline receding? Are your eyes growing dim? Hysterectomy for her and it's prostate for him.
Does your back give you pain... do your knees predict rain? Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Is your blood pressure up, your good cholesterol down? Are you eating your low fat cuisine?
All that oat bran and fruit, metamucil to boot, keeps you like a well oiled machine.

If it's football or baseball... he sure knows the score. Yes, he knows where it's at... but forgets what it's for.
So, your gall bladder's gone. But his gout lingers on. Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

When you're hungry, he's not, when you're cold, then he's hot. Then you start that old thermostat war.
When you turn out the light, he goes left, you go right. Then you get his great symphonic snore.

He was once so romantic, and witty and smart. How'd he turn out to be such a cranky old fart?
So don't take any bets, this is as good as it gets. Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

(author unknown)
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