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