Inchcocks Christmas Day morning Dream

Inchcocks Christmas Day morning Dream

How this brewed in my brain is beyond me, I say,

I was cruel and ungiving, as I chose who should go, and who should stay,

I was the Party Pooper,

How low I had stooped,

Ruining the little ones fun,

I even had with me, a stun gun,

Hidden on the end of my walking stick,

Now the brain plays on me this terrible trick!

I used to cope with the many ailments I had,

I’m going bonkers now, that I find sad,

Will the NHS help with this going Mad?

I’m getting accustomed to it, in later years,

It no longer holds over me such worries and fears,

For I forget things so often, and of that, I’m glad!

Composed and published in Support of others going senile, who used to be able to control their bodies and minds, and like me, accept things as they are, despite the noisy git living in the flat above them!


8 thoughts on “Inchcocks Christmas Day morning Dream

    • Same to thee my cyber friend, and the furries too.
      Ailments – Oh, yes. Indeed they do, Tim.
      I don’t like this not being able to get out, no buses for three days. Mind you, would it have upset Hippy Hilda, the bloated legs (Must make a name for them yet, Hehe!) and Arthur Itis if I did get out for a hobble?
      At least its peaceful here. Apart from ‘Herbert’ above, of course, Tsk!
      Hope the new years brings forth a multitude of merriment for you all, Tim.

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