Everywhere you go, you eat So there are crumbs in my bed There are crumbs on the floor There are crumbs in my bag There are crumbs in my coat pocket There are crumbs stuck to my socks There are crumbs in your hair. I remember a time without crumbs In my bed. That's something I miss An uncrumby bed. But then if I had an uncrumby bed I wouldn't have you So I'll live with a crumby bed Even though In the night when I roll over onto crumbs I swear and try to brush them out But they never fully go. There's always one or two That stay. So for the next 10 years I'll probably have a crumby bed Unless we stop having breakfast in bed At the weekend But I hope we never stop that. I haven't considered the issue of crumbs In so much depth until now.