Gettin Old - Wot Me?

In the words of the great Bard, "Alas". But enough of Shakespeare my friends. For it has come to pass That half a century and yet five more Years that is, not my cricket score. Have gone beneath the bridge of life. (Albeit that it was meant to be the broad highway!) And yet I can not but applaud This passing, moving on, this trifle As I can now, from this mature vantage, Appear pathetic, not to heed. Ineffectual, comfortable, benign, A husk, perhaps, which has lost its seed. But I know just how freedom feels How time spent deep in contemplation Is never wasted, is rich and feeds A healthy, ribald indignation Let not regret the years bring But heaps and heaps of sweet temptation Let others think they know it all Presume, for me, that life's a drag How deeply would they be appalled, If they could hear my inner laugh? Bugger moping, sod off sad Give me some more aftermath! Cut the grass, you must be joking Smoke it more like. "Up yer pipe" And furthermore don't interfere With my horizontal hold you boar. My crusty, lusty, view of life, Is more attractive from the floor And now, imagination running wild Young girl's legs and shapely thighs. Blood pressure going off the dial Please excuse the heavy sighs I'm not so old as matters much Imagination is my only crutch. There are those, of course, who'd say "Perverted, dissolute, sick old man", And, in truth, I don't disagree but For youth I'll lust on whilst I can. Not youth for me; I know that's gone But young girls just go on... and on