Bored in class, my teacher scratching at the chalkboard
I was daydreaming behind inattentive eyes
Musing on the carved initials under my desk lid.
Some like mine showing white wood
But others deep in overlapped grime and time
A panoply of occupants in this very seat.
Musing -‘in ten years, I’ll be twenty – wow a man
Will the Queen still need soldiers then?
Enlisted, drafted, – what would that involve?
If I live till thirty, will a wife and kids be in toe
Housekeeping money and rent to find
Should I want to ever get that involved?
Forty, would be very old
Orwell’s book, I never could get into
It seems 1984 will be just too very involved!
People die when they’re fifty
My friend Terry Stockbridge says – “Wrinkled and waiting”
I expect dying can be very involved.
Sixty makes you bald, fat, shaky and daft
Well Granddad is – he set light to the chimney
The Fire Brigade got very involved.
At seventy, you dribble, stumble and talk to the wall
Stay in special homes where you sleep in rows
And wee in bed – I don’t want to get involved in that at all.
Eighty – The king will ask my secret of longevity
I will have forgotten then – He should have asked when I was seventy
I wonder what I will get involved with over the next 70 years…….?