Growing Old (Even Better, Edited) Poem by archie hardie

Oh woe! oh woe! this growing old,
tis making my life a toil.
From six foot three at twenty one,
I`m down to four foot nought at sixty.
When once I went skiing
on black slopes in the Alps,
and later made love till dawn,
now I`m lucky to get fifty yards to the shops,
and I gotta get help to the bog.
I trekked the Gibson desert, using stars as my guide,
survived on ants, bees, milkchoc n` honey,
and crossed the great divide in a blizzard straight from hell,
then exhausted all the girls in Tiajuanna.
I`ve wandered the Pacific, in a home made canoe
found my way out of a fifty mile maze
I`ve been lucky in love, made a few quid as well
but now, I`m a discontented man,
you see what I would dearly love now
is to have me both me legs an` me feet,
attached to me body again.


(20/9/2007)