Getting old

Your body’s started aching

And brown hair’s gone to grey.

You’ve gone from young to old my friend,

You’re ancient now, I’d say.

There’s little hope for you,

I fear you’re crumbling more than cake.

I think it’s best we plan ahead

And organise your wake.

What’s that? You’re in your thirties?

You must have weathered fast.

It must just be that you

Were really never built to last!