What I Want
I don’t want to grow old and doltish
I don’t want to grow old and fat
I don’t want to grow old and boeotian
And that, as they say, is quite that
I want to be old and roguish
I want to be old and smart
I want to be old and distinguished
With an eye for the lady or tart
I don’t want to grow old and placid
I don’t want to grow withered and grey
I don’t wish to be old and half senseless
Dribbling, drooling or fey
I want to be old and a looker
Retaining my boyish good charm
With a nod or a wink, I’ll make girls’ hearts sink
And they’ll queue up to take my right arm
I don’t want to get stuck in the doldrums
I don’t want to be put on a shelf
I don’t want to be left with a memory half cocked
In a room in a home for ‘my health’
I want to grow old fighting nature
I wish to compete in life’s game
I want to grow old with mettle so bold
That the years will bow down and be tamed
I don’t want to grow old, dull and slothful
Where people speak slowly and loud
T’will never be thus on any account
I’d rather be put in my shroud
I want my old age to be fruitful
I don’t want my body to sag
I’m hoping that things will keep working
So I can still enjoy a good … time
Ian F Smith © 2011
