My Arse, a Lament
I understand that getting old
Is just a stage we pass
But can anybody tell me
What happened to my ****?
It used to be quite lively
And a distance from the ground
Ashamed to say it though I am
It used to get around
It was nifty on the dance floor
And comfy on a chair
It was pert and it was bouncy
But now there’s nothing there
And what is there is saggy
And not worthy of remark
Not flattered much by moonlight
Disappointing in the dark
Inevitable, gravity
That’s what it’s all about
In some tired hotel lobby
My butt is checking out
Play a mournful serenade
Sound the final horn
‘Tis off, my sorry ****, beyond
The Tropic of Capricorn
If I’d have seen it leaving
I could have waved goodbye
Packed a flask and sandwich box
And had a little cry
Ageing, such a pantomime
A farce, a silly plot
“It’s behind you!” Not my **** it ain’t
It was, but now is not
So, don’t take your **** for granted
It’s for fun, and sitting on
Enjoy it while you’ve got one
‘Cos you’ll miss it when it’s gone
by Gail
Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2016
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