I sat before my desk last eve
To assess my current plight;
The things I see, you might agree,
Indicate a major blight.
My heartbeat is irregular
And, likewise are my bowels;
My appetite has flown the coop
While my nervous stomach growls.
My sex drive took a wrongway turn,
On life's highway, some miles back;
My drugs for that don't seem to work
So, I'm no good in the sack.
My bones keep going crackle-pop
And my back's in constant pain;
I have fungus on my toe nails
And my garden needing rain.
My teeth and hair are getting thin,
I'm having trouble seeing;
My prostate gland has swollen up
And that restricts my peeing.
That about sums it up, for now,
Not to mention larger ills.
Did I forget to tell you how
I keep mixing up my pills?
I'll be eighty five, when spring arrives
And, with luck, I do survive;
So, thank you, thank you, thank you Lord.
Gosh! It's great to be alive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem