Need long toe nails like claws to grip onto the perch
Dad always said that, "you're only as good as your feet,"But then he was talking bout, horse's cows and bullocks for meat.
Anyone who died in the village were said to have "fell off the perch"
Yes this is a picture of a picture, and my place is the farm top left with the eight bay hay barn, top in the middle on the same side of the road is the pub, and middle on the left is the village school, they have over two hundred kids from all the villages around and some come from out of town. Right of middle is St Chads church and guess who lives under the star (The Vicar in the vicarage.) There used to be four farms and four herds of cows in this area of the village but mine is the last one to survive, when I give up my tennancy even that will go as well.
As Old as What you Feel,
They always say that your only, as old as what you feel,
Now I like to have knap, after almost every meal,
And in the night get disturbed, got to water me hoss,
So now I think I must be old, me legs I cannot cross.
The old body that I've worked with, all my living years,
Getting tired and old as well, confirming all my fears,
Joints get stiff and muscles ache, cannot move so fast,
Stumble over rough ground, getting all harassed.
I cannot read the paper, until my glasses I must find,
Remember where I put them, must be getting blind,
The misses she has got them on, cannot find her own,
Each of us both as bad, but then we shouldn't moan.
Feet I cannot reach right now, back won't bend so much,
Got to have chiropodist, corns and toe nails to retouch,
Dad always said that, you're only as good as your feet,
But then he was talking bout, horse's cows and bullocks for meat.
Hair it has all gone grey, and very thin on top,
Need a hat in winter, the freezing cold wind to stop,
No insulation gainst the cold, a wig I got in mind,
But then its two lots of hair to comb, as well as going blind.
Ya mind is getting slower, reactions far too late,
The young ones like to drive, my driving they berate,
A dent or two I don't mind, but it frightens them to death,
When they're sitting in the back and cannot catch their breath.
So now I try to look relaxed, put me feet up on me chair,
Central heating turned up, find me glasses and combed me hair,
Slippers on oh what bliss, the telly's far too loud,
Lost the bloody controller now, good job were not too proud.
It funny how your mind can wander when you're thinking of nothing in particular, thinking about mothers old soft water tank outside the back door and the sock come filter tied round the tap to filter out the house sparrow droppings, and how she used to wash our hair in it because it lathered better, all this when we were kids,
The different coloured bottles that medicine came in up on the top shelf, very few if any tablets as I can remember. The only "tablet" I can remember was disguised as dark chocolate, and after we had each had a square of it, were told it was for worms. I can remember the strong taste of it now, and it put me off chocolate for life.
The wobbly stool, the dragging wicket, and the postman with no nose, he had had a close encounter with a bullet or shrapnel in the war and lost his nose, there was just two holes in his face between his eyes, and he cycled eight to ten miles out and back to the village six days a week. A very brave and respected man for his courage working as a postman in all weathers.
Now We've Got a Leaking Tank
Now we've got a leaking tank, soft water leaking out,
Got to find a bung for it, a cork or something stout,
A cork from in a bottle, would do the job okay,
Bottles in the cupboard, we've got a good array.
Tall bottles short bottles, white or blue or green,
Embrocation medication, colour codes it seems,
For coughs and colds a spoon full, taken every day,
Bumps and bruises rub it on, oily vapour say,
Way back on the top shelf, most of them half used,
Find a chair to stand on, now I'm all confused.
Old chair it's wobbly, one leg is short and loose,
Take it in the workshop; it's had some abuse.
Other three cut them off, make legs same length,
On the leg bit of glue, stick it to give it strength,
But the saw it's lost some teeth, and it wouldn't cut,
Gate into the back yard, and that it wouldn't shut.
Timber on it rotten and hinge it would not hold,
Aught to have a new one or that is what I'm told,
Keep out intruders, this it wouldn't do,
Post that it hangs on, that also must renew.
There's another sort of post, which goes in a letter box,
Brought by the postman, from his bike he always locks,
Parcel to deliver, on the door he always knocks,
On his round six days a week, wearing out his socks.
It was always an old sock, which was tied around the tap,
This it filtered all the water, floating bits to trap,
On the front of this old tank, I think I've found a cork,
Stop the water leaking, out faster than it aught.
No more old ones after this one, I will go back to being a kid. They alway said that your once an adult and twice a child in life.
When Gravity Takes Over
It is not until people of your own age,
Start falling off perch begin to engage,
Your mind to thinking what you will do,
When you're the last one at hundred and two,
Gravity takes hold and pulls everything down,
From your cheeks on your bottom to facial frown,
Everything sags and get a lot shorter,
When you get into that last century quarter.
Memory is one thing that you take for granted,
Forgetting to remember is not to be vaunted,
They say it's selective in what you do,
It's a privilege to have choice than get in a stew.
Toe nails can't reach and look like bald eagle,
Chiropodist trims and tells you they're fungal,
Gives you some cream and still you can't reach,
Old back bone won't bend but still got my speech.
The hair it still grows with the utmost vigour,
Round wrinkly face and chin it gets bigger,
Stretch and contort to shave it all off,
But some it gets missed when got a bad cough.
As you wobble out to the car that you drive,
Dented on the corners, too bad to describe,
Backing is dangerous blind as a bat,
Makes not much difference just one more splat.
To round up and sum up the older you get,
Experience all round but you do forget,
Long toe nail like claws to grip onto the perch,
Live on for ever not left in the lurch.