ON NEARING 50.

Another apology to T S Eliot;

ON NEARING 50.



I will not be Prufrock, my life measured by coffee spoons-
For do I not know many popular tunes?
My spoons, caffeine-stained, rest in mugs and on saucers.
Wear my trousers rolled? Me? I talk trends with my daughters.

My waist-land has grown but death holds no dominion.
I’ve claimed not on my policies so it’s actuary opinion.

The naming of years is a difficult matter
It isn’t a game with your afternoon naps.
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
Who’s discovered that old folk wear back-to-front caps,
Wander paths towards death from whence no-one returns-
Wonder vaguely how much their annuity earns.

Their mortgage like yellow fog wreathed round the house
From Banks willing to deal (but were turned down by Faust)

If I’ve three score and ten to expect from my span
Of life here on earth as an ordinary man
Then I’ve many years left so I’ve time to grow old
But I’ll not start just yet while there’s jokes to be told

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Uncle_Ed

I enjoyed writing this in another thread-so I thought I'd air it here as well!

With apologies to T S Eliot


Oh The smelling of pussy's a delicate matter
It isn't just one of your holiday games.
You may think at first I'm as mad as hatter
When I tell you the pussy isn't to blame.
First of all you can spray 'em with scented deodourant
Then you can wash 'em and squirt in some soap
But then when you dry 'em they just go all seepy
At the sight of some guy and a large length of rope.
He may try to nuzzle and he may try to lick it
He may try to lap and he may try a cock
He may just ignore it (but that isn't cricket)
If the pussy just reeks like a two-month old sock.
So! pamper your pussy and treat it with reverence.
Treat it with fly spray or treat it with bleach.
Remember! You're pussy's the doorway to heaven
So make sure your keyhole is well within reach

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On behalf of felines everywhere I ask you to change your mind about smelly pussies!