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Old men look and look
But they never have found,
A pretty girl
They didn't like around.

For their wives to worry
Is to worry in vain,
They couldn't catch one
Tottering on their cane.

With their bald heads a shining,
Their false teeth a clanging,
Their hearing aids sputtering,
And their pot bellies hanging.

But they still look,
Look as hard as they can.
It's one last pleasure
For any old man.
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03/04/2002

Posted on 03/04/2002
Copyright © 2024 Charles E Minshall