This old world is slipping fast
How much longer can we last
Have we gone completely off our dome
With this modernistic stuff
I'm through, I've had enough
I'm so worried now since it hit home
Since making whoopee became all the rage
It's even got to the old birdcage
And my canary has circles under his eyes
He used to whistle 'The Prisoner's Song'
Now he does snake-hips the whole night long
My poor canary has circles under his eyes
Now, there was a time he was satisfied
To flit among the flowers
But now when I let him out, he'll hide
Up in a tree for hours
Instead of taking a much needed rest
He's flying out to some sparrow's nest
My canary has circles under his eyes
He has no girlfriend, that I'm certain of
But he sings "What is this thing called love"
My canary has circles under his eyes
Birds of a feather the old story goes
But love is something nobody knows
My poor canary has circles under his eyes
Now, maybe he's worried, the little lamb
He always looks so solemn
I wonder if he is in a jam
I'll look in Swaffer's column
He won't eat his birdseed, it's really a sin
He won't sing a thing without his drop of gin
My canary has circles under his eyes
