Three Score plus More

At the weekend I visited my father, aged seventy five, and made sure his computer was online.  Although I am quite sure he shall not manage to read this I thought I would put the poem he gave me at the time online:-

Three Score years and ten
So what does one do then?
The Bible says - that's your lot;
"Can't I do what I forgot?"
Now I am seventy two,
My latter years have just begun
Cruising, boozing, having fun
Seventy Two, don't feel so well
My prostate begins to tell
Oh no!  I'm seventy three
My doctor has his hands in me.
He looked inside and said "It's bad!"
My love, she pretended she was sad
Seventy four, my pension pot is growing,
I remember the wild oats I've been sowing
Seventy five, life goes quicker
And my blood is getting thicker
Oh dear lord six and seventy,
Does that make me feel more Heavenly
Seventy Eight, the reaper's late
Seventy Nine, or is it Ten?
Hari Krishna - not again!
Jesus, Allah - I've got the score
I can't do it anymore.

J.C.W. October 2009

06:04 AM | 0 Comments | Tags: , , ,