Old Timers Lament

Old Timers Lament

He sits by the fireside in the old Travelers Crest

A pub that he frequents when he needs a drink and a rest

So he can cogitate all the events of his life

The pain and the suffering, trouble and strife

With hearing now faulty, deaf in one ear

Eyes misting over, wetting his beer

Arthritic knees that click into place

Which show up his age like the lines on his face

His sexual conquests a thing long since past alas

A limp looking todger that has since been put out to grass

No longer the bird puller he used to be

Now the only crumpet is the one he gets for his tea

A quiet pint of beer his only true friend

One that will remain with him until the very end

Constipation and Prunes the order of the day

Otherwise he will be in a bad way

Such is life we hear him say

Tomorrow will be a better day

But it never is, never fear

It has not been his whole career

Visits to the Doctors to put  cream on his piles

And to the Hospital regularly which means walking for miles

Draws his pension weekly, that,s all that,s left

Without it he would be broke and bereft

His old black and white tele went out with the Arc

And his insomnia ensures he is up with the lark

Old Mrs Bucannan, at number twenty-tree

Always was inviting him round for a cup of tea

But as he’s got older and more miserable she gives him a wide berth

Which might also be down to his much wider girth

No longer the slim Dandy he used to be

His excitement now  limited to a  nice cake for tea

 Once a great dancer, so light on his feet

Now more like an Elephant, just fat and indiscreet

 He smiles at the ladies as he passes them by

But they ignore his good mornings as they just pass him by

The Grandchildren think he’s an old fart

Who sooner or later will be carried away on a cart

And they can share out the money he may have in his piggy bank

Up in the loft by the old water tank

But unbeknown to all, he has been a wise old bloke

And turned the tables on them just for a joke

He been visiting a brothel down Princess Street many a day

And with some of the ladies , having his wicked way

Can’t take it with you he thought to himself

So went about spending his ill gotten wealth

Visits the Bookies in Windover Lane

And watches relentlessly his money disappear down the drain

His wife sadly passed away a few years ago

And never felt the need to bring a new wife in tow

Happy with his own company down at the Pub

With a pint of Guinness and a pork pie for grub