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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