Amps and Ohms and midnight Proms
And things that are electric
Large pork pies and Mystic eyes
That make me look demented
Long tall spikes and weekend hikes
And things I find uplifting
How much hair have I got down there?
Are the sands of time just drifting?
Turtle neck sweaters and payment letters
Lying on the hallway floor
Wellington boots, and childhood flutes
That I just don't need any more
Blocks of crazy paving that for years I have been saving
And the need to wash my underwear at night
So no-one sees my naked knees
Or the fact my sheds alight
All this utter nonsense
Means an awful lot to me
I can't remember who I am
But I know I'm sixty-three
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem