She smells of bourbon biscuits
Even though she's diabetic
And always spells your name wrong –
Even though your name's phonetic.
She wears her falsies everywhere –
The gold teeth are cosmetic.
She had veneers before Brit Spears:
In some ways, she's prophetic.
She's lived in Guam and Timbuktu;
Her anecdotes are epic.
She once played squash with Kennedy
At least, that's how she tells it.
Her hip is made of plastic
But it's easy to forget it.
I've seen her do a headstand;
She's really quite athletic!
Her vintage togs are something else,
All outfits are authentic.
With purple hair and tartan bags
She’s got a cool aesthetic.
She'll shock you with her filthy jokes.
Her laughter is electric
And you can tell her anything
Because you know she gets it.
She's ninety three, but still drinks tea
With gin and amaretto
And, just like you, she hates Tom Cruise
And fancies Jared Leto.
She doesn't like authority –
And calls your Mum despotic.
She's been around and had her fun
And dabbled in narcotics.
You may think she's really old,
But she still thinks she's twenty,
And I know women half her age
Who look at her with envy.
She handles any problems
As if they had been planned.
She's a fucking awesome woman
And you're glad that she's your Nan.