Showing posts with label thirty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thirty. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 11, 2024

A Family Of Beaming Birthday Boys And Grinning Girls comic poem number 471 by Angela Lansbury

Birthday cards. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.


  The day you're born, it must truly be said

Mothers spend sleeping, or screaming, in bed

When you reach one, you don't know what it means

But when you're ten, you've got big group gift schemes


When you are twenty, you party plenty

But when thirty, you wish you were twenty

When you're forty, you wish you were thirty

Settled, or make up time being noughty


When you're forty, you wish you were thirty

When asked your age, you lie, or get shirty

When you're fifty, you wish you were forty

You feel old, even if you're still nifty


When you are sixty, it's time to retire

Wages are dwindling, ages grow higher

When you're severnty, you envy sixties

Youngsters are giants, friends are deaf pixies


When you're near eighty, tired, ready to drop

When somebody's thirty, you ask, care to swap?.

-ends-

All the lines have ten syllables.

I saved a syllable several ties by changing you are to you're.   I saved a syllable by changing nearing to near. I saved a syllable by changing soebody to someone.

Friday, April 19, 2024

Birthday Numbers comic poem 398 by Angela Lansbury

Birthday present. Photo by Angela Lansbury.


 When all's said and done 

It isn't much fun

Being aged one

Nor a hundred and one


Can you remember when

You were just ten

Do you think about it

Just now and then?


However, there's plenty

To say about twenty

Twenty-one, life's ahead

Lots of bread, lots of bed


And thirty's not bad

There's more fun to be had

Baby, maybe, even forty

You can be quite naughty


I've seen some at fifty

Still agile and nifty

And if they're not rich

They're expertly thrifty


And as for sixty, and seventy,

I'm sorry to say

As strength fades away

Much to say, do and pray


And when you are eighty

It's your right to retire

But the tax man demands

Work, forms, 'til you expire


Please don't ask me my age

I reached secretive stage

When I don't tell my wage

I've said, done, enough, filling this page.

-ends-

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