When I am an old man I shall wear shades of purple
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on single malt and winter gloves
And bison moccasins , and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my bare feet in the snow
And photograph the sunsets in other people's waters
With a red hat which doesn't go and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on single malt and winter gloves
And bison moccasins , and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my bare feet in the snow
And photograph the sunsets in other people's waters
with apologies to Jenny Joseph. . .
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