Poetry Wednesday...

I spent a part of yesterday as advocate for a delightful lady 'of a certain age' (85 to be precise) who constantly referred to me throughout the proceedings as 'young man'.

She was an absolute delight and content with the outcome. If you imagine Dame Edith Evans you are truly getting the picture of her.

I am 61.....

So, this poem has really selected itself - another by Roger McGough.

I love the phrase beginning, 'hamfisted tommyguns....'.

Let Me Die A Young Man's Death

Let me die a young man's death 
not a clean and in between 
the sheets holywater death 
not a famous-last-words peaceful out of breath death  

When I'm 73 and in constant good tumour 
may I be mown down at dawn 
by a bright red sports car 
on my way home 
from an allnight party  

Or when I'm 91 
with silver hair 
and sitting in a barber's chair 
may rival gangsters with hamfisted tommyguns burst in 
and give me a short back and insides  

Or when I'm 104 
and banned from the Cavern 
may my mistress 
catching me in bed with her daughter 
and fearing for her son 
cut me up into little pieces 
and throw away every piece but one  

Let me die a youngman's death 
not a free from sin tiptoe in 
candle wax and waning death 
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death