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The old man.
The old man.
The old man sometimes dragged
His right leg,
Walking was often difficult
When his pain was so nagging.
He was fed up taking pain killers,
At times he thought he would rattle.
The doctor said it was hereditary
And came with old age,
Sometimes his leg seemed fine
But today was a bugger.
A widower these last few years
He had few pleasures left
But he did like a fag.
Sunshine heat was on his
Tweed jacketed back,
A seaside trip was
Always a good day out treat
It took his mind off
Today’s uncomfortable pain .
The ice-cream van was in
His sights as he stopped
About every four steps,
Smoking twenty a day
Never did him any favours.
As he neared the van
He shouted.
“A 99 cone please pal.”
He dragged his leg
Another four painful steps.
A big white whippy ice-cream
Was coldly invading
A cone.
The vender called out
“A flake sir?”
“Yes “came the
Old mans reply.
“Crushed nuts?”
“No, just my
Fucking rheumatism!”
He had never lost his
Sense of humour.
