The Young Old Man

There was a man of thirty three

Who would complain and grumble with glee

Moaning was his hobby

Particularly food that tasted dodgy

He would turn off the light

Darkness being cheaper than bright

He was the heating Police

Where warmness would cease

Don't turn on the tap

Let's re-use that glass

Never dare to leave a mess

For grubby stains would cause him stress

And on top of all that

He had an old man's back

Barely able to move

He would lie down and brood

In complaining he had a degree

Was he really only thirty three?

Author's Note

A bit of self-deprecation

Reviews

[Ellejune]

It has such a funny way of telling something it sparks the imagination