The plight of such seniors is well known:

Stripped of a status they once used to own,

They still play a part at eighty years old,

With faces flushed and extremities cold.

 

Retired from cavorting on the stage,

With spouses well beyond the pension age,

They favour shop clothes and elastic waists,

Count Berg and Stravinsky among their tastes.

 

With no further use for booze, fags or drugs,

Their main preoccupation is with slugs,

Which threaten their carefully tendered veg.

They're frightened of a neighbour, name of Reg.

 

They won’t hold parties and make lots of noise,

Or race round on quad bikes or such vile toys.

Their lives had many shocking tales to tell;

Now they prefer cocoa to raising hell.