It is quite conventional And not at all contentional To rage against the age when we decay. For the progress of the regress Generates the anger to express Our grief and our powerful dismay.
One by one all the incisors Succumb to the advisors That excision is the desired way. Then the molars follow suit For a lot of dental loot To finish us as toothless as a jay.
We are soon bereft of hair, Fallen out, I can't say where To give our tops the surface of a ball. We retain our brows and lashes While our shaving still leaves gashes So Our hairlessness is not complete at all.
Our muscles get much weaker And our macho very meeker While our memories are never very sound. We totter and we twitter 'Til we need a senior sitter And finally we tumble to the ground.
Let us hope the end is calm Not a quirk, not a qualm When we slip into our final dreamless sleep. Let's be blessed with no recall,
No memory at all And no problems with counting endless sheep.