Father Time

Father Time
By Mark Spencer

Father time I am humbled,
Brought down by your power.
You have made me a weed
In a garden of flowers.

My back hunches over,
I can't hear anymore.
And my poor wrinkled butt
Now drags on the floor.

My feet have the gout,
And my neck has a crick,
And the lens on my glasses
Are three inches thick.

I have a cane and a walker,
And I eat through a straw.
I have a jar for my teeth,
And I snore like a saw.

They make me wear diapers,
And they won't let me fart.
They keep feeding me beans;
Say they're good for my heart.

Father Time you're a bastard,
Not funny at all.
But there's one consolation,
Albeit quite small.

Though I am withered
And barely alive,
I still have my license.
Think I'll go for a drive.

End.