Nuts
Call me old-fashioned
Call me a dud
Call me impassioned
A stick in the mud
Call me a slouch
Or a shanker of scrim
A spud on a couch
Or exceedingly prim
Or afraid of a long life
Or call me plain crackers
But I don’t want the wrong knife
To savage my knackers
Call me a prole
Or address me as ‘pleb’
But I think on the whole
That I’d rather life ebb
At an elegant rate
And to let my eyes shut
When I’m seventy-eight
Than to suffer the cut
There are ways to bamboozle a
Scythe-wielding reaper
But to be a Methuselah
Ought to come cheaper
I’d rather die merry
Than opt for the snip
(Though not be John Terry
Or even Chief Whip)
