I’m getting old
My youth has been relinquished
I’m told my grey hair
Makes me look
distinguished
The sad truth is
My ego has been
extinguished
I’m getting old
My youth has been relinquished
I’m told my grey hair
Makes me look
distinguished
The sad truth is
My ego has been
extinguished
I tried cooking with wine last night
But it didn’t go very
well therein
After five generous
glasses
I forgot why I was in
the kitchen
Don’t forget mum on Mother’s Day
A bottle of something
I think
And just remember that
it is you
That drives her to
drink
It doesn’t matter if the glass
Is half full or half
empty
Either is fine
It just means that
there is
More than enough room
To add more wine
I used to have a coping strategy
For when things got
grim
I would try to drown
my sorrows
But the bastards learned how to swim
Jack and Jill went up the hill
With their supply of bottled water
What is it with these bloody ramblers?
Are you wearing a smile?
Because you know all
the while
In your own inimitable
style
That you are a
commandophile