Somebody wanted a 50th birthday limerick.



So your hair will soon be turning grey,
(If you have any left, I should say,)
But don't count the cost,
Not everything's lost,
There's plenty of time left to play.

So you can't keep it up now all night,
But experience tells you what's right,
Your partner to please,
You know all the keys,
To give pleasure to a great height.

Look forward at what lies ahead:
Your prostate means... wetting the bed.
Then there's gout and colitis,
And the pain of arthritis,
You'll be wishing quite soon you were dead.

That last verse, pretend it's not there.
It just floated up out of thin air,
But as I'm getting old
And my brain's growing cold,
I've lost the delete key, I fear.

And now I must stop for a pee;
Very soon lad, you'll be just like me.
Just a half-witted fool,
Who will dribble and drool,
'Til somebody calls you for tea.

OK now I've been to the loo.
What is it I'm trying to do?
Write a big birthday verse?
I don't know. Tell me, nurse,
I'm writing this message to who?



Hello, this is nurse emma Croft.
That silly old fool's nodded off.
But I'll send this to you,
As I'm sure he meant to...
God knows but his brain has gone soft.

--Nurse Emma, for Tiddy Ogg.  {I'll take him for a walk later, then a nice cup of 
cocoa will settle him down.
.  But he's very good for 53.}

}

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Last updated: Thu, 9 Sep 1999.