No get-up and go, no energy churnin’
No gas in his tank, his wheels aren’t turnin’
The world’s all around him, but in it he’s not
His long ago vigor has all gone to pot
A pot that’s a broiler, a broiler not broilin’
He’s much like a top, a top that’s not twirlin’
So when it’s all over, all done and well said
He’ll safely remain in his safe haven bed
He needs an infusion of get-up and go
A burst of vitality to get rid of his woe
Once out of bed, he’ll be sharp as a knife
He’ll fill up his tank and get on with his life
With new energy churnin’, his wheels will be turnin’
His broiler a-broilin’, his top will be twirlin’
He’ll be part of that world, the world all around
With his get-up and go that was lost but now found
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You know, reading the third poem of yours (just discovered you) it reminds me of Dr. Suss - really. Catchy and charming and rhymy and fun. I know, rhymy isn't a word but it just fits somehow. I like your work Stanley! Another '10! ' Best Wishes, Marilyn