Wednesday, January 14, 2009



Three men on a veranda sat,
an old age home, where they were at.
Rocked in their chairs, and chewed the fat
about longevity.

One said he'd led a simple life,
adored his children, loved his wife,
kept his emotions free of strife,
and he was eighty-three.

The next averred that he had found
the teachings of the prophets sound
for keeping both feet on the ground,
and three score-ten was he.

The third had listened all the while.
Bemused,with a sardonic smile
upon a face that could beguile
the devil and his minions.

And when his turn came round, said he:
The simple life?, no not for me.
Religion?, not my cup of tea
I don't share your opinions.

For I am of a different ilk,
rye whiskey is my mothers milk.
I've clothed myself in shirts of silk,
and spent all I could borrow.

And 'though I may have hell to pay
for living in a reckless way,
if I can make it through today,
I'm twenty-eight tomorrow!



No comments: