This Is The Life

It’s written on our epitaphs
That we were one in four
Who had the last decrepit laughs
Alive-o at five score
A century, there’s nothing finer
Living life like broken china

Our sight and sound are dim as
A twilight or a mist
But let us praise our zimmers
That all of us persist
A hundred up and no mistake!
We’re friable as dried-up cake

Our great-great-great-great-grandkids
Have come to make us merry
As we, like two-armed bandits,
Ring up a triple-cherry
And here, to make us celebrate:
A shoal of cards from Will and Kate

Yes, we have won the lottery
We’re century-survivors
We may be pretty tottery
But no-one says we’re skivers
And better still, did someone mention
Next year we may gain a pension?

 

Click here for The Guardian article 

20 April 2011

A quarter of under-16s are expected to reach a hundred years old


POETRY KIT WEBRING

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