Wrinkles Poem by archie langford

Where do wrinkles come from,
That`s what I`d like to know,
Last time I looked I had not one
That was thirty years ago
I`ve just looked in the mirror
And what did I see,
A face as wrinkled as a prune
Staring back at me
Oh the affect that it had on me
Really was dramatic
So I went to find my portrait
That I`d hidden in the attic.
The artist that had painted it,
For an extra fifty bung
Said the painted face would grow old
But my own face would stay young.,
So I`m going to get me whisky
Get meself right plastered
Then I`m going to find the artist
And kill the lying fellow