Choose a previous weeks' poem from the index on the left.
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?
