A Cranky Octogenarian
The old bloke in the house at the corner has turned eighty three
And age has not left him mellow he is as cranky as can be
He hates his next door neighbour and his next door neighbour's wife
He argues with them often he likes trouble in his life.
His childless widow was as cranky as him she died five years ago
Everytime they argued with each other their disputes a public show
Yet the day that she was buried for her he wept his tears
Despite their quarrels he did love her they were married for fifty years.
I often meet him with his terrier in the recreational park
His dog as cranky as him at me never fails to bark
I no longer do greet him I used to say good day
Since he never once did speak to me only from me look away.
Why he does seem so unhappy I have often wondered why
'Tis said as we age we mellow to him that does not apply
Not the happy type of character who spreads joy around the place
And I have yet to see him with a smile upon his face.
Comments about this poem (A Cranky Octogenarian by Francis Duggan )
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