We thought it worth printing, as a warning to the younger generation, and an example of lousy poetry.
The memory goes, most times you go into the bedroom or den,
And stand there thinking 'What did I come in here for then?"
You'll misplace and lose things repeatedly, again and again,
Forever losing your hearing aids, spectacles and pen,
You may even forget the names of the children you have begotten,
Is your neighbour's name William, George, Bill or Ken?
You'll lose all interest in dancing, tennis, birthdays and snowmen,
And eventually forget what you were going to do then,
You'll go to bed, at six o'clock, and no later than ten,
You'll burn many saucepans on the cooker in the kitchen,
You'll fall asleep while the food cooks, hopefully not
needing the firemen,
One thing that may cause your spirit to lift and brighten,
Is that others will suffer the same, including the young men,
Then they will realise your suffering… Amen!