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Give Praise for These Days of Old Age
You’re up in the morning, you moan and you groan,
You’re feeling the grinding of bone against bone.
When your knees have embarked on a life of their own,
_Then give praise for these days of old age.
You’re down at the bus-stop and feeling so blue,
The kids call you “Cringey” but what can you do?
When the town undertaker keeps smiling at you,
_Then give praise for these days of old age.
Your teeth are all broken, your hair’s dropping out,
You may have arthritis, but it’s probably gout.
You keep falling over when trying on socks,
And every new day brings a few nasty shocks.
So, keep yourself sharp, don’t wind up in a pickle,
And keep a close eye on that guy with the sickle.
He’s coming for you, so the best you can do
__Is give praise for these days,
__These fabulous days,
_These wonderful days of old age.
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Jeff Eardley lives in the heart of England near to the Peak District National Park and is a local musician playing guitar, mandolin and piano steeped in the music of America, including the likes of Ry Cooder, Paul Simon, and particularly Hank Williams.
Jeff, I come very close to matching the entire criteria of ailments in this perplexingly funny piece?? Every time someone I don’t even know responds to my merely entering a room with – “Need a little help there, old timer?” – I’ll think of this irritatingly hilarious poem! Nice job any way – 🙂 🙂 🙂
Thanks Mark, this age thing creeps up and grabs you from behind when you are not looking. A pal of mine remarks that memory loss is great…everyday you make new friends! Thanks for your kind comment.
Jeff, as I am approaching the cliff at high speed, it’s great to have wit and humor to read. Each day becomes a blessing as we contend with ailments unintended difficulties in the continue pursuit of life and living. Writing poetry reduces stress and helps us cope. Thank you for your clever poem that made me laugh.
Roy, thank you so much for your comment, coming as it does from a prolific wordsmith. I truly hope that the cliff, for you, is many miles away and that you keep entertaining us for many years to come. Thank you again for your kind words.
Well that was fun to read (though not to live!) A word to the wise:
Aging sometimes can be slowed. Try a class in chair exercise.
You may even get stronger,
Or possibly live longer.
(Many of my students tell me it makes them feel better, anyway, even if our hair is dropping out.)
Thanks for the humorous poem, Jeff! Laughter is good for our health, too.
Cynthia, we do all we can to slow down this pesky ageing process. My wife does chair yoga, while I sit in a chair and think about yoga whilst having extensive conversations with my knee joints. Your comment is much appreciated in these strange times when laughter is in such short supply.
There’s an Italian proverb that this poem calls to mind:
La vecchiaia e carogna.
Literally this means “Old age is carrion,” but more idiomatically in English it can be rendered “Old age sucks.”
Thank you Joseph. It truly sucks, particularly the disturbing acceleration of time. My God, is it Christmas again already?
Love it. My fave line was ‘…the town undertaker keeps smiling at you…’. You had a high giggle per stanza ratio, Jeff.
Some of the winners of the High School SCP Competition had wonderfully positive spins on ageing.
Thanks Paul. The current task is to wipe the smile from the face of that undertaker.
Gratefully comic it is, Jeff. Many ways of treating the topic, but I’m happy to hear this unique song form from you, with final repeat turned into a glorious flourish. You’re making good use of wonderful days!
Thank you Margaret. Yes, it will become a song. Myself and friends are trying to dispel the myth that three score and ten is as good as it gets. Best wishes to you.
A fun poem with an optimistic view on old age. Life is too short to carry the heavy sack of discontent. Gratitude is the way to go! Thanks for sharing this, Jeff.
A lovely sentiment Shamik. Gratitude is certainly on the cards for this teenager trapped in a 74 year old body. Good luck and good health to you.
This is hilarious, Jeff, because it’s just so darned true! I love the word-play and, after reading this through twice, am quite convinced this should be set to music. This would make a grand Music Hall-type piece (not dissimilar to “When I’m Sixty-Four.”) And you certainly have the musical gifts to pull it off.
Oh thank you so much Brian. When I wrote this it was buzzing around my head as a song. I was inspired by the song “Oldest swinger in Town” by Fred Wedlock, a name that will mean nothing to you, but there are some great lines, and I quote…
You don’t look in the mirror by the light of day.
Swear you dyed it when your hair turns grey.
When you zip up your Wranglers, your belly’s in the way.
And best of all, “When you spend all night doing what you used to do all night”
Best wishes from over here.
This one hits close to home but does so in a very light-hearted way. Thanks for making me laugh out loud.
Thank you Warren for your kind words. I think we all need a little laughter these days.
Jeff, I love this poem. Never mind getting in a pickle over the reaper’s sickle (great rhymes) the six-feet-under alternative to the rigours of old age is enough to make those of us battling wear-and-tear grateful to wake up each morning. Great stuff! Thank you for the knowing giggle!
Susan, any comment from you lifts my spirits and always has done, so thank you so much. Best wishes to you and Mike, and watch out for that Reaper!!!
Jeff,
A comment a bit late but accept a kudo from an aching fan who is muddling his way around the world (currently in India) and experiencing every painful step and aching joint as a gift of grace from God and as evidence of a temporary reprieve from the inevitable day when old age will fade into eternal blessedness.
Jim, you have presented me with a mental image of an ageing hippy in a red bandana puffing pot smoke out of the window of a battered VW, trundling towards Katmandu. I hope you don’t spoil things by telling me you are on a cruise ship. Thank you for commenting and I look forward to more scintillating verse on your return from what sounds like a great trip. My good friend, Mr G Reaper sends his regards.
It’s a wonderful poem that calls out the experience of my current life. And it’s a song, Jeff. It’s a song. I hear the song in it quite clearly.
Yer up in the mornin’ / Ye moan an’ ye groan / Yer feelin’ the grindin’ / of bone against bone / When yer knees have embarked / on a life of their own / Then give praise for these days of old age. /
Yer down at the bus stop / and feelin’ so blue / The kids call ye “cringey / but what can ye do? / When the town undertaker / keeps smilin’ at you / Then give praise for these days of old age /
He’s comin’ fer you / so the best ye can do / is give praise for these days / These fabulous days / These wonderful days of old age /
I would love to hear you sing this. Just you and a mandolin. But if a piano and a guitar want to join in, then have at it man. Remind us all that we can still laugh.
Thanks Frank, you have inspired me to put a tune to this. If only the great Nat King Cole was around to sing it….oh well, we can’t have everything. Best wishes.