59, FEELIN' FINE, BUT EARS ARE SLIPPIN'.
MEMORY'S THERE WITH CIRCUITS BLIPPIN'.
CAN EAT ANYTHING, BUT WITHOUT FAIL
MY COLON WILL TELL THE LAST SAD TALE.
AS SAD TALES GO, TAKE MY GOLF GAME;
AFTER ONE HOLE I WONDER WHY I CAME.
MY ENERGY'S FINE, BUT HAVE TO ADMIT
I PRESS COMPUTER KEYS TO KEEP FIT.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem