NORM WALKER

End of the Roll

words and music by Norman G. Walker © SOCAN

My name is Tommy Rawson, I'm a flooring man by trade
If you need a walking surface, I'm the one to get it made
I can do linoleum or tiles big and small
I can keep 'em square and straighter, I'm the master of them all
Of all my bread and butter, of the work that pays the bills
Is the laying of the carpet in the mansions on the hill
It was there I learned a lesson, though stranger things are told
Always count your budgies at the end of the roll.

It was on a Monday morning when I knocked upon the door
Of the home of Mrs. Kelly who I never saw before
A carpet for the living-room was all I had to do
If there wasn't any problems I'd be sure to be done by two
The thing with Mrs. Kelly is she didn't live alone
She had a dozen budgie birds of every shade and tone
But she kept the cages open so they flew from lamp to pole
They twittered and they flittered as I carried in the roll.

So I went about my business with the carpet on the floor 
The stretcher strips along the wall, the threshold at the door
The underlay was easy, the carpet rolled and cut
I stretched it with the kicker and I rolled the remnants up
When the job was nearly over, just as I was about to leave
Adjacent to the window was a little carpet heave
Something underneath the surface had made a little bump
So I flattened it with my hammer and I finished cleaning up.

About an hour later when I drove back to the shop
Mrs. Kelly on the telephone, upset and in a knot
A budgie bird named Winifred was missing from the place
Did I see her out the window, she was gone without a trace
I thought about the carpet, I thought about the bump
I thought of how I flattened it 'til there wasn't any hump
I told her not to worry, pacification was the goal
Now I always count the budgies at the end of the roll.

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