By GC SMITH
What stuff to do before I die?
What to grab, what to pass by?
I might learn about the polka,
nah, I'll pass on that folk art.
Should I thank to my wife’s ex?
There were a bunch before we met
but she picked out and stayed with me
so my thanks is reserved for my MiMi.
There’s stuff to do, I’ll say why;
at sixty-nine time starts to fly,
perhaps thirty years left to pilot a plane,
could, might be less for finding fame.
My novel ain’t seen light of day,
if it does I’ll damn well shout hooray!
Still I can’t complain about my life,
it’s mostly fun, it’s free of strife.
So, I’ll just do whatever I do.
I’ll have me-self a whoop-de-doo.
If you’re at all wise, do the same,
cause it is the one and only game