Fifty-one…

Fifty-one

And boy am I hung,

Also do I lie a lot, oh geez,

No really, at one time I may have hung low,

Unfortunately since then they did eat it, the fleas,

The only thing that now overhangs is my gut,

Then of course, off my belt, as usual, are hung my keys…

Shriveled am I to say the least,

To enlargen I must sometimes use yeast,

I get it specially delivered from the far, far east,

Okay, okay so I am as always like most men a beast…

Yep, fifty-one years old,

Sometimes I am so damn cold,

Must be the age thing,

Herein I have again you cajoled…

          © ed ~ 8/4/05