GROWING OLD . . .

A few days ago friend Arthur was discussing some matters with me and we again discussed getting older. I quoted him some lines from a poem – “Did I say all? . . .Well, all but one” – and said that I would mention it in Bytes. When I checked Bytes, I found that I had already posted the poem back in 2012 in the context of a discussion about growing old . . . .with Arthur.

Here is that Bytes post, from the vault . . .

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

Hills and toothpaste tubes

Last week Byter Arthur complained to me that the filing of court documents was a lot faster in “the old days”. Whereas in the past the documents would be processed, sealed and given back immediately, now they had to be left for adding to the pile of documents on someone’s desk, awaiting their turn to be reached for processing. I told him that things change, sometimes not for the better, but this only prompted Arthur to repeat that “it was still a lot faster in the old days.” My exasperated response was “Well, I could run marathons 'in the old days.’” We then sat there, discussing what things were like when we were younger, much like Rocky and Apollo Creed in Rocky IV. It brought to mind a few poems on the subject, not necessarily great literature, that I told Arthur I would post and dedicate to him . . .

Here they are, Arthur . . . 

(Some risque humour follows)

Oft I recall my youth's first splendour

With joyous life just begun,

When all my limbs were soft and tender,

Did I say all?....Well, all but one.

But now the winds of age blow frigid,

The halcyon days of youth have gone

And all my limbs are stiff and rigid...

Did I say all?....Well, all but one!

It's not the grey hairs that make a man old,

Or the far-away stare in his eyes, so I'm told,

When the mind makes a contract the body can't fill,

You're over the hill brother, over the hill.

You may fool your dear wife with the tenderest of lies,

You can shear the old sheep, pull the wool o’er her eyes,

But if she asks for an encore and you say you are ill,

You're over the hill, brother, over the hill.

When you gaze upon Venus and just heave a sigh,

When you hear a rude joke and laugh fit to die,

When it’s all in your head and you've lost all the thrill,

Then you’re over the hill, brother, over the hill.

Life is a conflict, the battle is keen,

There are not many shots in the old magazine,

When you've fired the last shell and you just can't refill,

You’re over the hill, brother, over the hill.

Yes, this is my counsel, alas and alack,

When you've squeezed out the toothpaste you can't put it back,

If you want to make whoopee, then don't wait until

You're over the hill, brother, over the hill.