I Must Now Wear Purple

When I am an old man I shall wear purple With a silk green hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me. And I shall spend my social security on brandy and fishing poles And panties made of satin, and say we've no money for a proper burial. I shall sit on the pavement when I grow tired And gobble up free samples in shops and press her alarm . And make up for the thoughts of my youth. I shall go out barefooted in the rain And pick veggies in other people's gardens And learn to not be so patient. You can wear those terrible skirts and grow even fatter And eat three pounds of lobster at a single sitting Or only cheese and bread for a week And hoard my gold coins and silver and copper and things in unmarked cardboard boxes. But now we must have clothes that keep us dry And pay our rent and not swear in the street And set a good example for the naughty children. We must have friends to dinner and read our horoscope in the paper. But maybe I ought to practice a little now. So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised When suddenly I am old, and thinking to wear purple.