This old world is slipping fast How much longer can we last? Have we gone completely off our domes? 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 gotten 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 And my 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 And my canary as circles under his eyes He has no girlfriend That I'm certain of But he sings 'What is this thing called love?' And my canary has circles under his eyes Birds of a feather The old story goes But love is something Nobody knows And my 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 cup of gin And my canary has circles under his eyes