What Care I

What care i if i die without a penny to my name
Since rich or poor then to me will be the same
If old age does not kill me then something else will
And all feelings do die in the heart that is still

In my younger years i had ambition of becoming a poet
Though i never became worthy of literary note
Since poetasters are many and poets are few
Am i telling you something you already knew

But the rhymes they do seem to keep coming to me
And addicted to rhyming i do seem to be
On notepaper my rhyming thoughts i write down
But without thought of money or any yearn for renown

I have written heaps of rhymes well over eleven thousand or more
And time catching up with me six years with three score
The best years in my life in the forever gone
But i remain as a rhymer and i do rhyme on

Whether i am buried and left to a natural decay
Or cremated it will not matter to me anyway
Eventually we all become victims of time
For the poet a last poem and for the rhymer a last rhyme