Those short years ‘til you’re twelve

Are an innocent age

As you’re not yet a teen

On a teenager’s stage.


But another twelve on

And you’re now twenty-four

And in love with caffeine

And the girl from next door.


When you reach thirty-six

With some kids of your own

What you hadn’t foreseen

Is the size of your loan.


Then another twelve pass

In the blink of an eye

And you don’t look so lean

In your crumpled black tie.


Now when sixty comes round

And you’re out with good friends

They say farewell old bean

As the gathering ends.


Although seventy-two’s

Not the peak of your powers

You still flirt with Maureen

During visiting hours.


If you make eighty-four

Will they leave you in peace

Now there’s not much between

You and final release.


But you shrug off the load

And you turn ninety-six

Only four ‘til the Queen

Tips her crown at your tricks.


For we all think one hundred’s

An age to exult

As it’s far from routine

And a whopping result.