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By Malcolm Yorke
Getting’ thin on the top and wide at the bottom Aches and pains well Lawd I got ‘em Names go missin’ in the attic o’ my brains Could knit you a sweater from my varicose veins Oh this old age is slowly killin’ me Now life’s a blur without my specs Clean forgotten what they mean by ‘sex’ Tuckered out, and in bed by nine With hot water bottle and my Oval-tine Yup this old age is slowly killin’ me Kids are sniffy ‘bout my body hygiene They doused my pants in gasoline Cold in my head and chill in my bones Cain’t hear what’s said on them new phones Sure this old age is slowly killin’ me Doctor’s orders not to touch any liquor My liver’s shot and I’ve a dicky ticker Teeth in a glass, belly in a truss Travel’s free but cain’t climb on the bus Well this old age is slowly killin’ me Grinds in my hips, creaks in my knees Half up the stairs I stop for a wheeze All-a my meals now gotta be tinned So I cause social gaffes by breaking wind Darn this old age is slowly killin’ me Boils on my arse, corns on my feet Plenty of food I’d better not eat Got me piles, and I don’t mean money Bladder sprung a leak and that ain’t funny Jeez this old age is slowly killin’ me Kids are all flown over the hill But keep on ‘phonin’ about my will Guess I’ll be missin’ from the family brawl When they find I’ve left ‘em bugger all’ ‘Fraid this old age is slowly ki….. Malcolm Yorke 2018 |
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