When I am an old man I shall wear black <br />With a white cap which doesn’t go with my tidy clothes, and doesn't suit me. <br />And I shall spend my savings on puncheon rum and thick socks <br />And fake leather sandals, and say I have no money for doubles <br />I shall sit down at the corner when I can’t walk anymore <br />And walk through the mall sampling teriyaki bits and barbeque nibbles <br />And run my cane along the bumpy pavements <br />And make up for my early teetotaling ways. <br />I shall go barefoot in the rain <br />And pelt mangoes in other people’s yards <br />And learn to smoke old cigarette zoots. <br /> <br />You can wear undersized merinos and a stubbly beard <br />And eat three dozen oysters in one go <br />Or one loaf of bread and cheese for a week <br />And hoard notebooks and free pens and coffee cups and things in bright boxes. <br /> <br />But now we must have shirts and ties and new jackets <br />And pay our mortgages and watch our words in the papers <br />And be role models for a lost generation. <br />We must go for drives to the beach and listen to the news on radio. <br /> <br />But maybe I should think of these things now? <br />So you will know me when I pass noisily on Frederick street <br />When suddenly I am old, and start to wear black.<br /><br />Wesley Gibbings<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-warn-you-borrowed-from-jenny-joseph-two-days-before-my-birthday/
