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Born to
rumble, born to rock,
Now I'm old, can't find my sock,
And I'm losing all my hair,
Rumble only in my chair.
Rode a
Harley, drove a rod,
Built just like a Roman god,
Now I putter 'round the block,
In my scooter; cannot walk.
Partied
late and after dark,
Kissed the girls where lovers park,
Now my nurse says it's too late,
If I'm out at half past eight.
Opened
bottles with my teeth,
Now my dentures I bequeath,
To the ones who carry on,
After I am dead and gone.
Once a
legend in my time,
Now a legend in my mind,
Telling stories, not so true,
Not quite lies, but truth that grew.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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