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At the Old AgeHoopla Ball

First, a big fat thank you to all the readers of this column over the years. Lately, I’ve written two or three booklets on the subject of Older Than Dirt. No, I’m not quitting or dying or coming down with some other mystery ailment. It’s merely that I’m working on a volume which I’m titling REMAIN CALM AND STAND BY….

For this laconic (whatever that means) volume, I’m penning an Older Than Dirt Anthem titled: AT THE OLD AGE HOOPLA BALL. Warble to the tune of The Wabash Cannon Ball. Sing or recite or add your own verses. Have fun.

AT THE OLD AGE HOOPLA BALL



We can’t abide loud noises

Our knees are Arthur-it-ic,



Eyes go bad, our back goes out,

We’re objects of great pity

No caffeinated coffee

No one hears us scream and bawl

These changes keep on changing

At the Old-Age Hoopla Ball

CHORUS

Through the golden years of aging

To St Peter’s pearly door

To the graveyard or cremation

We will go forever more

We’re no longer tall or handsome

And we’re careful not to fall

When shuffling cross the dance floor

At the Old-Age Hoopla Ball

Ain’t no use complainin’

Don’t matter how we sigh

Live and love and laugh till then

Just as long as we survive

We suffer nasty fungus

Our bowels set up a squall.

Our hearing fails; our mem’ry too,

At the Old-Age Hoopla Ball

cho…

Our skin has bumps, our six chins wag,

Like wattles on a turkey.

Our figure’s gone, we’ve lost our charm,

We are no longer perky.

We give up caffeinated coffee

No one hears us scream and bawl

Those changes keep on changing

At the Old-Age Hoopla Ball

Can’t remember what we’re doin’

One moment to the next

There ain’t no use a-cryin’

Just keep right on a-smilin’ through

Our earthly race nigh over

And we have had a ball

We’ll smile and greet St Peter

At the Old-Age Hoopla Ball

cho…

Our skin has bumps, our six chins wag,

Like wattles on a turkey.

Our figure’s gone, we’ve lost our charm,

We are no longer perky.

We give up caffeinated coffee

No one hears us scream and bawl

Those changes keep on changing

At the Old-Age Hoopla Ball

We listen to our body

To the way it moans and groans

As we go slip and sliding

Toward our final home sweet home

Now ain’t no use complainin’

It don’t matter much at all

Live and love and laugh till then

At the Old-Age Hoopla Ball

cho…

Our skin has bumps, our six chins wag,

Like wattles on a turkey.

Our figure’s gone, we’ve lost our charm,

We are no longer perky.

We give up caffeinated coffee

No one hears us scream and bawl

Those changes keep on changing

At the Old-Age Hoopla Ball ❖


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