Age, they say, is golden,
Then why ain’t I a-holdin’
A body that’s blessed,
Like gorgeous Mae West’s,
Who glowed even after post mortem.
A woman who lived in Ronan,
Could dance a mean limbo, man,
Her partners grew cold,
When the lady grew old,
When she limped to the floor, they all ran.
Great Truths About Life
A codger out driving his scooter,
Spotted a jogger much cuter
Than puppies or pie,
He exclaimed, “Me oh my,
For that gal, I’ll toot my tooter!”
There was an old man in the Home,
Whose mind was inclining to roam,
He tottered to town
To the Thistle and Crown,
To drink with a charming old crone.
An old crone reaching near eighty,
Was wise and her words were all weighty;
“Hell”, she once said,
“I know I ain’t dead,
So why would Bill Clinton not date me?”
There once was a wrinkled old hag,
Who covered her head with a bag,
Incognito, she crept,
To a Prince, whom she swept
Off his feet in a wild game of tag.
Depend on Depends when you’re older,
As then you can be a lot bolder
When riding your horse,
Or golfing the course,
Or lugging a big heavy boulder.
A retired cowpuncher named Shorty,
Rode a gelding that went by Ol’ Snorty,
The pony fell dead,
And Shorty, he said,
“That cayuse was only near forty!”
A crotchety cowgirl’s bad knees
Pained her whenever she’d sneeze,
Couldn’t ride anywhere,
Or climb up a stair,
So, she bought a four-wheeler, by geez!
No matter what gurus might say,
Your body is going to decay,
Your best parts will sag,
Like a pile of old slag,
And your hair will resemble spoiled hay.
An elderly, wandering lass
Misplaced her teeth in the grass
She looked everywhere,
Overwhelmed with despair,
She found them when she sat on her—donkey.
An old lady with teeth from the store
Ate thousands of chocolate s’mores,
She gained lots of weight.
Got stuck in a gate,
And now she’s part of a door.
There was an old coot named Jake,
Who ate only spuds and beefsteak,
He drank, and he smoked,
And told dirty jokes,
And died young at a hundred and eight.