When I was a boy of three,
My sister much older than me
Raced me to the teen-age stage
Where we seemed about the same age.
We knew that folks of thirty
Were way over the hill
And their greatest thrill
Was to sit back and relax
While teen-agers furnished them facts.
But when we reached thirty,
Filled with awe, we foresaw,
That thirty was grace to behold,
And knew in our soul
Folks of fifty were hopelessly old!
But in our fifties we grabbed what we said,
And pushed “old age” way up ahead.
And at sixty we did the same.
Age was just a game not to disclaim.
In our seventies we slowed just a bit
But were still not ready to quit.
And now as octogenarians,
We breeze through museums and aquariums.
With many things to learn
While we have energy still to burn.
So youngsters don’t fret,
Old, we ain’t—not yet!