Let Me Die A Youngman's Death Poem by Roger McGough
Let Me Die A Youngman's Death
Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death
When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party
Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides
Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one
Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death
This poem causes resentment to well up inside me. Not that I want it to, its a great poem. My indignation comes from knowing how it feels to lose a young man to a young man's life. He was 28. A long life has its own privileges, and price. How dare it feel it the right to turn what is a young man's price into its cherry on top.
Hang me from The highest tree If hanging be my destiny So at the moment That I die You'll know I went With head held high Andy Morris
I love the way he handles words- running them together, chasing them from line to line, and I like that he doesn't want to slip peacefully into the night
Many of us will get to a point where we will embrace death and it's release from life's pains. But who being young and strong of body, being alert in mind, being a young man/woman feeling life is yours for the taken, would embrace death. Death is for the old as nature decrees.
If we live long enough we get to a point where we are happy for death's embrace.
I am 9 years old, and I came across this poem because of a homework assigned by my teacher, I love this poem! ! ! ! ! ! !
Let me die not as oldie mind and with lazy hands but let me with active hands for everyone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/10/2022 12:59:30 PM # 1.0.0.1019
When I was 20 I took this poem as my motto. Today, at 64 and sitting in a hostel in the old city part of Kashgar on the Silk Road, in sweltering temperatures - it's STILL my motto. Is it still yours, Roger and, if so, what are you doing about it?