The Auld Fart Poem by Peter Bain

He's making a brew, he's only just up
He's having a vape and filling his cup
Now he's thinking as he puts in his denture
He might go out and have an adventure

He shouts on his wife but she's outside
She knows he's up, she's decided to hide
He's a grumpy auld fart but that's just his way
'He'll never change', his wife would say

An orangey smell, the flavour of the day
He's given up smoking, vaping's the way
He puts on his jacket, he thinks he looks cool
Posing at the mirror, what a daft auld fool

Moan, moan, moan, he's heading for the door
Creaking and groaning, sounding very sore
He goes outside, he feels a little rain
He's bawling at his wife, pretending he's in pain

' Edith help, I've hurt my back'
'I think I'm having a heart attack'
His wife's not daft, she knows the score
She shoves him in and slams the door

40 years together, she knows all his tricks
He'll moan he's unable but whistle at the chicks
He never puts in effort, unless he sees the money
Then he's in a funky groove, he's really rather funny

Out he goes shopping, what a wondrous sight
His straggly hair waving, his beard glistening white
He shakes and he wobbles, his legs looking bandy
He makes it to the bookies, now isn't that handy?

On his way home with a big bag of cash
He's never moved faster, almost a dash
He enters the local florists, whilst reflecting on life
Buys 20 red roses, a gift for his wife

When he gets home, he tells her the story
He's won a small fortune, his moment of glory
He gives her the flowers, he sees a wee tear
She gives him a cuddle, she's glad he is here

He finished up his tea and headed for his bed
Having one last vape and a pill for his head
His wife gives a smile, what a sorry looking heap
He's half ejected his denture and fallen fast asleep