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Who said I’m old

Yeah we should all know

How the oldies once did go

They’d played merry hell

With so many they’d wooed.

They look moustached and

White bearded or bald

With weakened eyes

Impending cataract

Yet they can spot a girl or two

Who is still looking at them?

Then they can also give a wink

Extract a smile

Send flying kisses

All the while

So oldies are like spirited wine

Have an experience of a golden mine

When you give in to them

Without favour or fear

They say come sweetheart come near

They’re likely to plant a kiss or two

Also extract a smile or quite a few

Then say that’ll do

If given a chance they too would stand

Take your hand in hand,

Then you will call them

A pedophile

So take care be absolutely aware

Oldies too can get wild

Have a slower one at their pace

If anyone cares to give them space

In the sexual continued rat race