The CRYPT Mag

Life's Reflections

By Baz Cann

When I was a boy of only three, My father sat me on his knee, Of wondrous stories was I told, To bear in mind when I get old !

When I was a youth of just thirteen, There was so much I hadn't seen, And I was eager for the day, I came home with my first week's pay.

Then came when I was twenty-two, There was so much for me to do, Jobs came and went and so did I, The tear of sadness in my eye.

A youth, it's plain, I am no more, I've reached the age of thirty-four, I take a house and take a wife, She gives me nothing back but strife.

Now I have attained forty-four, Whence comes a lady I adore, Who wants nought but just what I am, And assistance from who cares a damn.

What has my life in store for me? I guess I'll have to wait and see! But I shall go on cheerfully, With this lady who stands by me!

And so I leave, my story's told, To observe life as I get old, So heed you well, these words of mine, For soon enough will come your time!