I Miss My Youth
Festivals stirring me along, wild nights in youth spent.
Never a wish for none greater, but a few more moments lent.
Twirling amongst the crowds of night, they only fear the day.
Bright eyed Gibson girls, ignore what others say.
Stouts and porters make a good night, a one to last me ages.
My hand that tried to hold on to them, have long since turned the pages.
I pray those nights could find me here, so far away from youth.
They would not know me if they saw, now I am so long in tooth.
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