Wasted On the Young

Oh how my son can I make you see the error of your ways, You think all men past 40 have surely had their days, And as for women they are not worth a glance, You give them no time when you preen and prance, You think your god's gift to all you think that matter, But my son it takes a lot more than clever patter, You need to be charming; quick witted; and funny, Not just a flash git, with a pocket full of money, You must show respect and be gracious in defeat, Don’t sulk and ridicule because they don’t kiss your feet, Don’t drink to excess; so that you mumble and stumble, The female gender can make a drunken boy feel terribly humble, And when it comes time to depart, Don’t I repeat don’t go home with The tart?