Not So Mid Life Crisis
He’s having a big mid life crisis
It’s a bit late, I grant you, but true
It should have begun in his forties
And not when he hit eighty two
When he traded his wife for a new one
(She is thirty years younger, or more)
The old one was getting quite past it
So he told her, and showed her the door
He now spends his time, with fine dining and wine
And all of life’s pleasures and joys
From Italian suits and dying his roots
To a house full of gadgets and toys
In the garage there sits a big Harley
And whenever the weather is sunny
He jumps on his hack, with his bird on the back
And they go out and spend loadsa money
But he’s not such a big hairy biker
Since when they return from the trip
He’ll sit down in front of the fire
For a cocoa, and afternoon kip
As his old aching bones start rebelling
And he ponders upon his past life
All the things he has done, the women the fun
But most, how he misses his wife
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