Before

I look I smile I scratch my ass I gaze into the looking glass oh hansom me who could resist my shining eyes and impish grin
You lucky girls I start to think.

After

I look I smile I scratch my ass I gaze into the looking glass but wait oh no what do I see wrinkle lines in front of me and look much worse my flesh it sags and hangs about my face in bags my eyes have sunk into my head I start to wonder if Im dead
But no the night before was merry I think I drank a pint of sherry
A yard of ale a glass of whisky that was when it went misty. I wash and shave and brush my teeth comb my hair and start to see that hansom man in front of me

poem by Richard©2005-2006

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