Ninety-two
It’s hard to keep appearances
Now I’m nearing ninety-three
’Cos my eyesight isn’t perfect
And it’s difficult to see.
I have to tend my aching feet
Before I venture out;
I don’t know what’s the trouble
Though my doctor says it’s gout.
Of course my hair needs trimming
For I need to see the way,
Also conk and ear-’ole whiskers,
They need cutting every day.
And when my teeth need cleaning
Well, I’ve got to find them first;
No wonder I’m frustrated
With a temper fit to burst.
Ah, here’s the tube of toothpaste
Which I squeeze upon the brush;
It really tastes quite awful,
Oh! It’s soothing cream for thrush.
I dab my chin in aftershave,
At least I think I have;
But why’s it in the plastic tub
I use to clean the bath?
And for sweetly-odoured underarms,
Enough of this is said,
I cannot put my arms down,
I used lacquer spray instead.
It’s hard to keep appearances
With a mind askew as mine
And when I’m ready to go out
I’ve clean run out of time.
Ian C Gray Wollaton Park