He was a most peculiar man,
He lived within his room,
Within his house, within himself,
A most peculiar man.
He was a most peculiar man,
That's what Mrs. Riordan said
And she should know,
She lived upstairs from him,
She said he was a most peculiar man.
He had no friends, he seldom spoke
And no one in turn ever spoke to him,
'Cause he wasn't friendly and he didn't care
And he wasn't like them.
He died last Saturday.
He turned on the gas and he went to sleep
With his windows closed so he'd never wake up
To his silent world
And Mrs. Riordan says he has a brother somewhere
Who should be notified soon.
And all the people said,
What a shame that he's dead,
But wasn't he a most peculiar man?
Wasn't he a most peculiar man?
Wasn't he a most peculiar man?
