Growing Old
I’m getting old, so I’m told.
Looking in the mirror, my father looks back at me.
I found my first grey hair you know
Not above, but down below.
I find it harder to see, or is it just me?
The wrong parts sagging down to my knee
Ears don’t hear so well now,
Glasses? Do say we shall.
Is it my fate? No more to bed late.
Aches in funny places I really hate.
Ooh, I groan when I do up my shoe.
More often times spent in the loo.
More pills and potions, creams and lotions
Hair slowly turning to snow.
Wrinkles and blotches now appear.
For growing old I do fear.
When I were a lad, things weren’t so sad
No ipod, Internet or cell phones
All that my father once said to me,
I find I now repeat in history.
I don’t like getting old I feel the cold
Hair grows in funny places.
Retirement is great so I’m told
But I can’t even do up my laces.
Looking in the mirror, my father looks back at me.
I found my first grey hair you know
Not above, but down below.
I find it harder to see, or is it just me?
The wrong parts sagging down to my knee
Ears don’t hear so well now,
Glasses? Do say we shall.
Is it my fate? No more to bed late.
Aches in funny places I really hate.
Ooh, I groan when I do up my shoe.
More often times spent in the loo.
More pills and potions, creams and lotions
Hair slowly turning to snow.
Wrinkles and blotches now appear.
For growing old I do fear.
When I were a lad, things weren’t so sad
No ipod, Internet or cell phones
All that my father once said to me,
I find I now repeat in history.
I don’t like getting old I feel the cold
Hair grows in funny places.
Retirement is great so I’m told
But I can’t even do up my laces.
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