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On retirement all The Due proceed,
Because cars don’t their speed exceed;
In their pet jobs hope to succeed,
Sometimes sensible warnings don’t heed.
A solution to the riddles of idleness,
And checking of their feelings of awkwardness:
Relieved cops a vigilante floating,
Ex-civil servants at the likes of Bureaux gloating,
Former dispensers, stocked drug stores running,
Home-sent vets, neigbours sick animals and the mourning,

A sender to early graves,
Of those who more swollen envelopes crave,
For attendance to their mounting needs,
That can’t be handled by what simply feeds.
Usher of fuller reunion with family,
A picking of fresh interest in being homely;
Our resting of our long besieged bones,
In our houses, now The Best of Thrones.

So, the Retired from his darling job,
Is not at all being asked to sob,
He having his service year completed,
And his efficiency surely depleted;
The age for a compulsory lay-off clocked,
For which more busying of self is true progress blocked;
A life to be lived has gone down,
For past stewardship, a dignifying gown,
Ageing men hostages to funny diseases,
Only off and on enjoying lucky releases.

Hence, managements forward their goodbye paper,
In this seeing a pursuit of The Safer,
To all retirees “wisely stay at home”,
Save those it is their nature to roam,
Anywhere they choose by all means to surface,
Provided it is not a very hectic office.

Not honey-sweet what the retired swallows,
Sometimes in court challenging it like the gallows, 
A doubly confirmed injustice form some adversary,
Via a tall order, neither timely nor necessary;
Always a building resolve to contain some mischief,
And a mission to save one’s job from a work thief!

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