She went and changed them, to try and please me
I thought they were just fine before
I can't imagine her new maracas
Are any less than forty-fours
As I perceive it, their size has doubled
She hardly fits into the car
She got a new type, the size of bagpipes
But now she juts out way too far

She tried driving, wound up crashin'
She couldn't corner, couldn't steer
Against the tilt-wheel, she has to mash "em
"Perhaps the back seat's better, dear?"

Although I'm never gonna hate them
I wish they weren't so doggone hard
They feel a little like freakin' soft balls
Yeah, now she juts out way too far

I guess it's not such a bad thing for me
To think of her at ninety-two
While other women's sag down to their knees
Hers won't be resting on her shoes

I said I loved them, she said, "Whatever!"
I told her, "Really. Cross my heart."
I won't say something that might upset her
Although she juts out way too far