ARE YOU SINGING THE OLD-AGE BLUES...?

     

                                                   Bald and toothless, growing old,
                                                   hard of hearing, bent and stooped;

                                                   my limbs won't do a thing they're told,
                                                   and in my boxers I've just pooped.  

                                                   Although I creak when I get up
                                                   and walking can be quite a grind,

                                                   and through a straw my soup I sup,
                                                   and cannot keep a thought in mind;

                                                   I try to keep stiff upper lip,
                                                   and not to let things get me down,

                                                   but there's no firmness in my grip,
                                                   and gravity gives me a frown.

                                                   Oh, curse old age and all it brings,
                                                   it doesn't come alone, it's true,

                                                   I'd need a whole new set of springs,
                                                   in order to keep up with you.

                                                   I'm past my prime and on the heap,
                                                   I've got a case of "old-age blues",

                                                   recalling my last "lover's leap",
                                                   it never would've made the news.

                                                   I never had much luck with dames,
                                                   they always went for other men,

                                                   but lust no longer now inflames
                                                   my passions past a count of ten.

                                                   I'm yellow, wrinkled, cannot see,
                                                   and fear the doctor when he calls;

                                                   I'll doubtless fail my "M.O.T.",
                                                   but must accept whate'er befalls.

                                                   When old friends die and are despatched,
                                                   it's not compassion that I lack;

                                                   from funerals I stay detached,
                                                   at my age, not worth coming back.

                                                   So pity me, my life's near done;
                                                   this battle I'm destined to lose,

                                                   and listen to my words, my son -
                                                   one day you'll sing the "old-age blues".

SOME POINTS TO PONDER...

Saw this on YouTube while looking for the DOCTOR WHO Christmas Trailer.  I offer it without comment for your consideration.  You can make up your own minds (and I'm sure you will).  Then feel free to share your thoughts on the matter with your fellow Crivvies.

The SADDEST WORDS...

Three friends were sitting at the bar,
by late hour undeterred.

"Pray tell me, lads," says I, "what are
the saddest words you've heard?"

"Could they be 'bar's now closed'," says one,
"when trying to buy the drinks?

Or how about 'we're dry' my son,"
the other says, then winks.

"But no," says I, "the saddest sound
that you will ever hear,

is two words very often bound
with thoughts of one held dear.

See, once I loved a gal so fair -
in fact I love her yet -

with love that was beyond compare,
though seasoned with regret."

"She loved a better man than I,
saw me as 'just a friend',

and never knew for her I'd die,
so I had to pretend.

Yes, pretend that she meant nothing,
and didn't hold my heart,

ah, but lads, the strain of bluffing
almost tore me apart."

"We've all been down that road I'm sure,
that well-worn, travelled track,

Where we've no choice but to endure
someone not loving back.

Ah, if only she had loved me,
if only she had dared,

if only she had wanted me,
if only she had cared."

"If only she had needed me,
as living things need air,

if only she had longed for me,
I wouldn't know despair.

Another time, another place,
who knows what might've been?

The look of love upon her face
is what I might've seen."

"Despite my heartache I'll be brave,
though no fate's worse than this -

to trudge through life towards my grave,
and never know her kiss.

The saddest words you'll ever hear -
the anthem of the lonely -

come with a sigh and oft a tear -
two whispered words - 'If only'." 

(1998)