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Molden Y(ears)

The golden years are supposed to be

That time when you relax 

and enjoy the fruits of labour

And sit back with your Stack

 

Increasingly however as I now approach the age

The time I have been waiting for 

Has now turned into rage

 

I thought the golden years would surround me with my gold

But I find now that to my cost 

I’ve great big piles of mould

 

Mouldy bits around the house

I’ve mould now in my car

My dog has mouldy bits on him

I’ve mould in my guitar

 

My wife she tries to mould me

Into something I am not

But that then goes for every man

I’m afraid that’s just his lot

 

I’ve a mouldy bit around my bath

And mould now in the shed

I bet if I pull it out

I’ve mould behind my bed

 

But if I could just replace the mould

with piles of shiny fluff

I would be very rich indeed

And wouldn’t give a stuff.

 

09/12/2021. 17:10-17:23

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

◄ Feet

Shdw ►

Comments

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John Coopey

Thu 9th Dec 2021 23:22

I feel a little guilty that most of my pension comes from 20 years of service in the pariahed coal industry; not guilty enough, mindst, to give it back!

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keith jeffries

Thu 9th Dec 2021 22:35

Pete,
I have four pensions one of which is the state pension. They nudge slightly upwards every year but do not keep pace with overall expenditure. Recently my gas and electric was increased by £30 per month. Pensions depleted. And so it goes on until you can't afford the central heating and end up wrapped in a blanket for warmth. It's no win. Unless you are invited to a non Covid party ( No10). I can't afford to go the pub for a pint.
Keith

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Pete (edbreathe)

Thu 9th Dec 2021 21:33

Stephen
Quite possibly

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Stephen Gospage

Thu 9th Dec 2021 21:29

Is the last verse 'breaking the mould', Pete?

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Pete (edbreathe)

Thu 9th Dec 2021 21:12

Mmm having paid tax all my life I can now look forward to the Government taxing my pension .

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keith jeffries

Thu 9th Dec 2021 21:03

A very humourous poem but underneath is the truth and reality of reaching pensionable age. We hope there is enough in the pot and I'm sorry to say there is not. The Government takes the lot.
The voice of bitter and enraged experience.
Good poem
Thanks
Keith

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