The memories just don’t ring true. In my mind, I am playing an old 78rpm record in my mother’s house. On one side is Frank Sinatra singing, Mama Will Bark.
But danged if I can find that duo singing THAT particular song.
It doesn’t matter.
Lately, I’ve been forgetting a lot of things. I’m not at the stage of Alzheimer’s disease – yet.
I’m even forgetting what I forgot.
Serious stuff for an old guy of 69. Seriously.
It reminds me of that old 78 – I guess it really doesn’t matter who sang it –
When I was young I had lots of pep
I could get around, I didn’t need no help
But since I’m old and a-gettin’ gray
The people look at me and say:
Too old, too old
He’s too old to cut the mustard anymore
He’s a-gettin’ too old, he’s done got too old
He’s too old to cut the mustard anymore.
I used to could jump just like a deer
But now I need a new landing gear
I used to could jump a picket fence
But now I’m lucky if I jump an inch.
When I was young I had an automobile
I’d scoot myself right under that wheel
I had to fight the gals off with a stick
But now they say, “Oh, he makes me sick.”