50

 

John G. Sutton

 

                                     When the policemen look like youngsters

                                     And Ten ‘O’ Clock is late

                                     When the wine needs extra water

                                     Then you know you’ve met your fate

                                     And the day begins at five

                                     Because you just can’t sleep

                                     And the hill you used to run up

                                     Is now just far too steep

                                     When Sunday is for housework

                                     Instead of coming round

                                     Then you know that father time

                                     Is starting to gain ground

                                     And the ‘younger generation’

                                     Are a proper feckless crew

                                     Then you know that you are ageing

                                     And that daft old bat is YOU

                                     When the person in your mirror

                                     You can hardly recognise

                                      And you know that you’ve got old

                                      Without becoming wise

                                      Then you forget the location

                                      Of the car parking lot

                                      And the pubs are far too noisy

                                      Then you know you know you’ve lost the plot

                                      When sexual relations require an appointment

                                      Assisted by application of

                                      A certain kind of ointment

                                      When Farmer Giles comes calling

                                       Every time you take a seat

                                       And you’ve got to be very careful

                                       With the food that you can eat

                                       When you stagger and you shuffle

                                       And the walking’s not so nifty

                                       Then you know that you’ve arrived

                                       At the dreaded age of fifty!

                                       

 

(c) John G. Sutton

 

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