The perils of the prostate gland are known to men like me,

Men of a certain age approaching their senility;

Men who’d give a hundred pounds if in return they might

Sleep right through without they need the toilet twice a night;

And why should I be held to blame if on the mat I’ve slopped?

When I can’t be sure I’ve started and I can’t be sure I’ve stopped;

Although the doctor’s fickle finger showed fings down there were fine

His broddling in my back passage was not quite so benign;

But if you face your future years with urinary dread

It pays you to remember the alternative’s you’re dead.