Forty F*****G Nine

My life is nearly over, yet it has only just begun

I feel like F******G off and sitting in the sun

The first ten years were childhood

the next ten then were teens

twenty something treacle

30, I was running out of beans

My forties were my favourite because I did Jack Shit

now with 50 looming I don't know where I should sit!

Should I get my medallion or powerful motor bike?

I'm more of a pipe and slippers man

I could become a Yorkshire tyke.

Wales is my straitjacket

Wales has sent me mad

It's about time I freed myself

and became really, really bad.

You know it's not going to happen

You know it's not on the cards

because I am a self pitying blogger

who thinks he is one of the bards.

William Topaz McGonagall 

would shudder at my shitty attempts, 

Failed Poet, Failed Playwright, Failed Lover

Failed Mover, Failed Shaker.

Let's face it

if you haven't made it by forty nine

it's time for you to go and sign

on.