'' I'M Only Ninety Years Of Age '' Poem by Bri Mar

I applied to run the marathon,
Only to be told,
We're sorry Mr. Marquis,
But I'm afraid you're far too old.

I asked the lady in question,
Exactly what she meant,
If I couldn't get my entry card,
Their criteria must be bent.

She claimed I wouldn't manage,
Past the first mile station,
I said to her how dare you,
That is age discrimination.

She then said it's not your age,
It's the stamina that you lack,
If you ran a hundred yards,
You'd risk a heart attack.

I've fought in wars the world over,
Whilst in the royal navy,
Running a bloody marathon,
Is like eating pie and gravy.

I fought the Germans and the Japs,
We won that race with ease,
Now you're saying I'm past it,
That smacks of bloody sleaze.

Though I feel a trifle older,
Maybe plumper round the middle,
I really think that you should know,
I'm still as fit as a fiddle.

What gives you the right to say,
That I can't run this race,
I will prove you've got me wrong,
I'll show you I can last the pace.

I've paddled down mountain rivers,
Climbed all of Scotlands Munro's,
Sailed the seven seas alone,
Yet still my energy grows.

That should now convince you,
If just a little bit,
That I really am invincible,
I'm one of the super fit.

So get my entry processed,
I now think I've made it clear,
I will run this marathon,
I've earned the right to be here.

She said you talk a good race sir,
The patter you have mastered,
But looking at the state you're in,
You're just a right auld bastard.

When she told me I was past my best,
That put me in a rage,
Why would she even think that,

‘' I'm Only Ninety Years Of Age ‘'