I Must Now Wear Purple Poem by James McLain

When I am an old man I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my social security on brandy and fishing poles
And underpants made of satin, and say we've no money for a proper burial.

I shall sit on the pavement when I grow tired
And gobble up free samples in shops and press her alarm.
And run my cain along her dirty fat lips.
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out barefooted in the rain
And pick veggies in other people's gardens
And learn to not be so patient.

You can wear those terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only cheese and bread for a week
And hoard my gold coins and pencils and beermats and things in unmarked cardboard boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the naughty children.
We must have friends to dinner and read our horoscope in papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and think to wear purple.