One Hundred and Three

Ah, tis back in the day when the war was on

Sorry, not at all! I seem to have it all wrong!

I’m not back then, but in the now you see

Oh what a bloody good age being one hundred and three.


So I have no teeth and my eye sights bad

My clothes are worn as forty years I’ve had.

But I have my health, well not exactly in tack

As my bones are brittle and a left leg I lack.


Now my physical state may have seen better times

As my skin hangs lose, with a face full of lines.

But I was never a beauty even back in the day

‘A beauty skin deep’ my dear mother would say.


But I still go dancing, at least twice a week

What I lack in a leg I make up for in chic.

A special comfort shoe with heel rather low,

And pink floral dress with a silk slip on show.


“How naughty” you’re thinking, for an old goat like me

You’d expect me at home with digestives and tea.

But that’s not for me with my second rate youth

Age carries wisdom and style a la couth!


Ok, what about this, I still have my mind

It’s strong in will, though years behind.

And my memory’s bad but these days I don’t care

For I have a new love who is charming and fair!


He’s sixty seven and Albert’s his name

Whose face could put Glenn Miller’s to shame.

With teeth pearly clean which he takes out at night

For that smile which sends my heart into flight.


Was in Asda we met, down isle number four

He was perfect to me, I clocked not one flaw.

Well apart from his trousers being one size to big

And a bald patch covered with a second hand wig.


But young love is blind so forgive him all this

A precious old slipper, once gone I would miss.

So I take his arm for the whole world to see

It’s a wondrous age being one hundred and three!

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