I'm not getting any younger,
it is a trite thing to say,
and it's so very obvious,
but I have said it anyway.
My moustache becomes a butterfly
and it decides not to stay
above the lips under my nose.
It rises up and flies away.
No I'm not getting any younger,
yes I've repeated the cliche,
yet tash gone I sure look youthful,
though my eyes have ever been blue-grey.
Beggars, beggars, everywhere.
Give, give-give. Nothing more to spare.
The beggars plead, call and swear.
It gets one may no-longer care !
Row boys, row. Ship yourselves along.
Spring comes with a very-new-song.
Fresh-pretties for you to behold.
Farewell frost and the winter-cold.
Dreams are part of reality.
Dream on but not idly.
Make a brand-new-reality.
Find some time has passed-by
since a girl in England's caught my eye,
and though she's not a pretty Thai
she is a beauty, my oh my.
Works in a superstore.
Super ! Super ! Yet spoken for.