When your knees are bucked
And your feet are flat,
And your hair is thin
Underneath your hat,
And your head is hot,
And your feet are cold,
You are showing signs
That you're growing old.

When your back is bent,
And you're pizzle-sprung,
And the songs of youth
Are about all sung,
And your only lust
Is the love of gold,
Oh, my worthy friend,
You are growing old.

When you come to find
That your feet don't track,
And your trouser's seat
Looks empty and slack,
And you walk down street
With a falt'ring step,
You can bet your boots
You have lost your pep.

When you talk of things
That are past and gone,
And begin to boast
Of the things you've done,
It is time to warn
That it's all "becuz"
It will not be long
Till you'll be a "Wuz."


J. M. RichardsonŠ

My heartfelt to Gary Beatty for sharing this poem!