A sixty five year old rhymer my best days long gone
But the urge to rhyme in me i will keep on rhyming on
Till the Reaper of lives claims the life's breath from me
Sometime in the near future whenever that will be
Some do advise me for to give rhyming away
But any heed to their advice i never does pay
The best of advice the addictive never heed
And in the addictive rhymer to rhyme there is the need
The urge to rhyme in me i cannot deny
And like rabbits my rhymes do seem to multiply
Every waking day more rhymes i do write
And then email them off to an internet site
Some men do grow older but they never grow wise
I must be of that sort i've come to realize.
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