The clock keeps on ticking and ticking away <br />And the poet of the past is the rhymer of today <br />And the boy of the fifties showing his years in gray <br />The Reaper on all lives has the final say <br />In the local bar-room the old rhymer Bill <br />Is reciting his verses as he drinks his fill <br />Nowadays he does seem much further from renown <br />Than when he was known as the laureate of the town <br />At local poetry readings never asked to recite <br />So few now interested on what he does write <br />Looked up to by many but that in the past <br />For some who are famous their fame does not last <br />At least his drinking mates his praises do sing <br />And he feels happy that to them his verses joy does bring.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-rhymer-bill/
