Oh grumpy Dr Plum, lives with his cat in a little two bedroom shack.
He speaks like a gun and never goes out unless it's raining.
Frugle as a banker and he posts his letters and collects his stamps.
He'll never wave 'hello'.
And he stays up late, watch the bedroom glow.
Once upon a time, the yard was filled with laughter. But as the years past by the walls have rot and cracked the plaster.
Three little daughters, use to run and play in the English Garden.
Now you can see the price he had to pay after all those dramas.
Oh grumpy Dr Plum, never had a TV dinner; eats his five a day and he doesn't do dessert much either.
Even cleans the vaccum cleaner.
And he keeps a trim mustache, and reads beside the bedroom heater.
Oh grumpy Dr Plum, you used to be a ballroom dancer.
And he played a gold guitar, told stories from those early years.
And he'd even sing a song.
Laugh it up all night long.
Now he keeps it extra tight.
And counts his worries through the night.
Lost the people that he loved, by making himself out of touch.
Just today, I saw a lady she was standing at his door.
She waited for a while and then left a note right on the store.
"Dr Plum, I know your in there".
"Don't you want to see your daughters?"
"Don't you know the care, you never call or answer letters".
"Don't be so selfish".
"Dr Plum, can you hear me?"
"You have forgotten all the fun and love, you once respected dearly".
"And now you're angry with your life and think the world is scary".
"It was the death of your poor wife, that blew your world apart".
You'll never guess what I just saw. Those curtains pulled and opened doors.
Visitors arriving by the hour.
And toddlers, tea and sandwhiches.
And music from the lounge, I guess that gold guitar is out from under the sink.
Oh Dr Plum, you really come through once again.
Dr Plum, life is what you make it in the end.
Oh Dr Plum.
You've really done it now.
The sun is shining through.
Dr Plum.
Love was always there, waiting just for you.
Hey!