Middle aged bodies are like sharks;

If they stop moving they sink.

You must know that.  What did you think?

You'd stored childhood's frolicsome larks

 

Like blubber stored inside a whale,

Or water in a camel's hump?

That from off the sofa up you'd jump

To tote that barge and lift that bale?

 

My friend, it doesn't work like that.

Ever tried to start an old car

Left for five years? Well there you are.

Cars gather rust, we gather fat.

 

It's called entropy or something.

But we can just call it knackered;

A tendency to move backward,

Downward - not forward, that's the thing.

 

There is one consolation though:

It's never irreversible,

This process which makes reflex dull

And your fastest walk like slo-mo.

 

Gentle exercise will suffice.

But if you can't be arsed with that

Don't complain when you are still fat.

What did happen to all those pies?