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?


Click here for The Guardian article 

20 April 2011

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


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