Humor Poetry posted December 24, 2014

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by rhymelord

At eighty-seven and a bit,
I reckoned it was time to quit
This chasing after girls and things like that;
But then I thought, "Oh, what the hell.
I'll go until the final bell
Or someone pins my shoulders to the mat."

So I set out to integrate
And soothe my hyperactive state
By visiting the local discotheque,
'Cos, as a man, I knew the jive
Was what made indiscretions thrive
And, sayin' that, I mean no disrespec'.

So there I was, a polished cat,
In zoot suit and a wide brimmed hat -
A rainbow that a chick could not turn down.
The bouncer gave a friendly smile
When I said, "It's been quite a while
Since I was out about and on the town."

I paid my entry fee and then
I stepped into that Devil's den:
At least, I say, that was my first impression.
The lights were flashing green and red,
The dancers moved like walking dead,
As happy as was Wall Street in Depression.

The music (if you call it that)
Reminds me of the time our cat
Had caught his tail in Granma's 'lectric wringer.
His howls were heard for half a mile,
But, even then, he had more style
Than that pathetic discoteckie singer.

I realised it there and then
That styles had changed since way back when
Young Nat King Cole and Crosby were in fashion;
But, undeterred, I braved the din,
At least until my chips cashed in,
And showed those youngsters how to dance with passion.

And here it's best I end this tale
Though, judging on the "effort" scale
On one to ten, then I would score eleven.
But, one last thing I gotta say:
Although I blew them all away,
Thank God there are no discotheques in Heaven.


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No. The photo is not that of me in my prime. I was far cooler than that, but, regrettably, my Zoot suit has shrunk around the waist. Alas!!
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