Murray Lachlan Young

Middle aged and forty  

The old age of youth and the youth of old age

At forty arrives the unfortunate stage  

There’s a starting of senior moments

As you linger half way on the stair

Unable to think if you’re on the way UP

Or you’re on the way DOWN but you don’t really care  

And you find that you wildest fantasy

Is having JUST nothing to do

When the telephone rings on a Saturday night

And you pray that it isn’t for you  

And you know that the clock is now ticking

And you see the familiar signs

That your death is NOW on the horizon

And your living on limited time

But it’s easy to start getting negative

It’s easy to foster a middle aged frown

But stop for a moment and have some perspective

Chillax, take it easy, don’t put yourself down  

Because wait till you find yourself fifty

And you’re drifting along with no clue

Clutching your Norwegian rambling poles

On your permanent search for the loo  

And you look back to when you were forty

And remember the spring in your stride

Back to when you could break wind with confidence

With no fear of a chocolate landslide  

Yes the secret is live for the moment

Don’t worry your self round the bend

And if in doubt watch the stone Roses

and thank god that you don’t look like them