My Arse; a Lament



I understand that getting old

Is just a stage we pass

But can anybody tell me

What happened to my arse?

It used to be quite lively

And a distance from the ground

Ashamed to say it though I am

It used to get around

It was nifty on the dance floor

And comfy on a chair

It was pert and it was bouncy

But now there’s nothing there

And what is there is saggy

And not worthy of remark

Not flattered much by moonlight

Disappointing in the dark

Inevitable, gravity

That’s what it’s all about

In some tired hotel lobby

My butt is checking out

Play a mournful serenade

Sound the final horn

‘Tis off, my sorry arse, beyond

The Tropic of Capricorn

If I’d have seen it leaving

I could have waved goodbye

Packed a flask and sandwich box

And had a little cry

Ageing, such a pantomime

A farce, a silly plot

“It’s behind you!” Not my arse it ain’t

It was, but now is not

So, don’t take your arse for granted

It’s for fun, and sitting on

Enjoy it while you’ve got one

‘Cos you’ll miss it when it’s gone


by Gail

Holding Your Nerve

Well, knock me right down with a feather
It’s true that some faith in whatever
And holding one’s nerve under fire
Can result in the things we require
Being sent to us served on a plate
By God, chance or synchronous fate

So, cross fingers or whisper a prayer
Take small practical steps up the stair
Fret ye not and have hope for the best
And watch time take good care of the rest
Who can say what the future will bring
When we wait for fat ladies to sing

by Gail