Eighty Years On

A poem to be included in an imaginary sequel to AA Milne’s ‘Now We Are Six’ entitled, ‘Now We Are Eighty Six’

I never was a good man – and now I’m eighty six

I creep around the care home playing lots of naughty tricks.

I steal old Gertrude’s knickers from her locker by the door

And plant them surreptitiously in Wilhelmina’s drawer.

I sneak into the day room when I know that no one’s there,

And pop a whoopee cushion on to Esmeralda’s chair.

I tip-toe to the kitchen in the middle of the night

And nab a tasty tit-bit when there’s no one else in sight.

I wink at all the carers and I like to play the clown

By pinching matron’s bottom when I catch her bending down,

And when she turns about and says, ‘You naughty, naughty man!’

I swear to God it wasn’t me and blame it all on Stan.

Whatever pills I’m given I deposit in the bin

And fortify my nightcap with a healthy dose of gin,

Then, slipping into sleep, I think, if eighty six is heaven

Who knows what pleasures lie ahead when I am eighty seven!