Father Time

Father time I am humbled, Brought down by your power. You have made me a weed In a garden of flowers. My back hunches over, I can’t hear anymore. And my poor wrinkled rump Now drags on the floor. My feet have the gout, And my neck has a crick, The lenses for my glasses Are three inches thick. I have a cane and a walker, And I eat through a straw. I have a jar for my teeth, And I snore like a saw. They make me wear diapers, And they won’t let me fart. They keep feeding me beans; Say they’re good for my heart. Father Time you’re a bastard, Not funny at all. But there’s one consolation, Though it’s very small. Although I am withered And barely alive, I still have my license. Think I’ll go for a drive.