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 ❖