This is no land for weary old men, I thought.
Let youth take a stand ‘gainst this time’s tragic tide.
I’m almost a pensioner, scrawling for sport!
from the hell, they call life, I just want to hide.
These dread days of darkness were so long foretold,
bad biblical days they had writ on a scroll.
When one loaf of bread would cost more than pure gold
and there’d be no shelter for body or soul!
There\'s no longer strength in these worn out old bones
to face storms as scorching as sirocco sand.
Let youth stand up solid, like statues or stones;
there’s no place for old men in this no man’s land!