Old Folks Home

 

If I die before I get old,

Don’t store me in the cold

Of an ‘old folks home’

With only part-time care,

And clean-easy chairs

Neatly spaced round the lounge,

Pushed back against the wall;

Commodes ready in the hall,

For those always on the go.

 

Soft food to die for,

And sing-songs, with an encore

Of ‘We’ll Meet Again’

Though no-one knows Vera Lynn.

Old men and women

Doing ‘chairobics’ and

Playing Bingo, to keep the mind quick,

‘All the sixes, clickety click’

Worn-out people in worn-out seats

 

I don’t want to fill the vacant chair,

I don’t want to know who sat there

Before I came along.

I don’t want to die before I get old,

But I have no say, or so I’m told,

And I wouldn’t want to be any bother.