Old As Dirt

You know that you’re old as dirt When ever thang done hurt— And you trades a cane for quirt ‘Cause you’s too old to flirt. And when you have to trim hairs From your nose and your ears— You done knowed those creepin’ years Has justified your fears! It ain’t that you’s gittin’ old Or Father Time is bold Or that last crow has done crowed, It’s jest sittin’ till ya mold! Old sport, jest what’s the matter? You ain’t no mad hatter— You ain’t old, that’s jest blather— You is jest gittin’ better! But if time comes a knockin’, Don’t let it be shockin’— Don’t with yer tack go hockin’, You’s jest rollin’, not rockin’! So when you lose all yer friends And seems life never ends— You’ll know ya ain’t on the mends When ya end up in Depends!