A Fool at Forty
from A BALLAD OF OPTING OUT by Richard Barttelot
Now that I've come to forty years
I won't for busses run
For I have shed my fill of tears
And had my share of sun
And in whatever time is left
Let me be nice or naughty
Be out of work, of wealth bereft,
But not a fool at forty.
I've had enough of sage advice
On sex and economics,
I've heard too much about the price
Of footballers and comics
I've been too suppliant, over-awed ,
I'll now be high and snorty
A cad, a crook, a dud, a fraud
But not a fool at forty.
Forsooth the time is getting short
The sands are running out
When there are no more girls to court
And no more rules to flout.
I cannot hold back middle age
The puffy and the portly
Oh let me rage and rant and rave
But not be a fool at forty.
I've passed days sitting on my heels
Or standing on my head,
And but for music and for meals
Would sooner be stone dead.
Oh make me bald or make me blind
Or featureless or warty
Or send me out of touch and mind
But not a fool at forty.
T.
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