It's the retiree's lament
Or retirees's blues
It doesn't matter which title you choose
What's in a name?
...
My great saphenous vein
Is more than a drain
On my fragile condition
It begins to irk
...
Oh to be in England, why
It's so peaceful there
There's the lonely sea
And the sky
...
Be my love and yours I'll be
You'll find no other as true as me
And in the autumn of our days
We'll crest the wave of loving ways
...
I often wish that I could write
Poetry that is not trite
That inspires the reader to reflect
And intelligently introspect
...
The Retiree's Lament
It's the retiree's lament
Or retirees's blues
It doesn't matter which title you choose
What's in a name?
When the outcome's the same
For I've lost my hair
My teeth are loose
Had to give up working
I'm of no further use
My waistline's spreading
My memory's gone
And I'm left wondering
What the hell's going on?
But it's bliss not working
I'm happy to say
Though it should've happened to me
Back in the day
When I was young and spritely
Adventurous and bold
O why should retirement be
Wasted on the old?