We have a dear old Daddy whose hair is silver grey.
He has a set of whiskers - they're always in the way.
Oh, they're always in the way, the cow eats them for hay.
Mother eats them in her sleep;
She thinks she's eating shredded wheat.
They're always in the way.
We have a dear old Mummy. She likes his whiskers too.
She uses them for cleaning and stirring up a stew.
We have a dear old brother who has a Ford machine.
He uses Daddy's whiskers to strain the gasoline.
We have a dear old sister. It really is a laugh.
She sprinkles Daddy's whiskers as bath salts in her bath.
We have another sister. Her name is Ida Mae.
She climbs up Daddy's whiskers and braids them every day
Around the supper table, we make a merry group
Until dear Daddy's whiskers get tangled in the soup.
Daddy was in battle. He wasn't killed; you see,
His whiskers looked like bushes and fooled the enemy.
When Daddy goes in swimming, no bathing suit for him.
He ties his whiskers 'round his waist and happily jumps in.
The hottest days of summer are getting pretty good
'Cause Daddy waves his whiskers and cools the neighbourhood.