The Road to Old Mans Town

 The fields of youth are filled with flowers, 
The wine of youth is strong: 
What need have we to count the hours? 
The summer days are long.
 
But soon we find to our dismay 
That we are drifting down 
The barren slopes that fall away 
Towards the foothills grim and grey 
That lead to Old Man's Town.
 

And marching with us on the track 
Full many friends we find: 
We see them looking sadly back 
For those who've dropped behind 

But God forfend a fate so dread -- 
Alone to travel down 
The dreary road we all must tread, 
With faltering steps and whitening head, 
The road to Old Man's Town!

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