To be besotted is the cruellest thing

I know that to my cost

For I fell head over heels in love

For a girl with a heart of frost


I wined her and I dined her

Gave her gifts of jewels and gold

Thinking that might impress her

Yet the thing I desired she would withhold


Despite my best endeavours

To get my leg across

She thwarted my ambitions

And left me at a loss


As to what to do about it

The thing that irked me so

Prompted me to propose a marriage

In the hope her love for me would grow


Yet it was only when I told her

That my fortune it was vast

That she acceded to my proposal

And thus the die was cast


We tied the knot in springtime

Honeymooned in old Bombay

I enjoyed conjugals aplenty

For she let me have my wicked way


Once home back in Blighty

She was at it day and night

I could barely match her prowess

But did not put up a fight


For I am aged one hundred

My time was running out

I barely could keep up with her

Though I did my best, of that there is no doubt


You see she was but only twenty one

And making love with her left me short of breath

And she knew she’d inherit my estate

Hence she shagged me to death


Not that I objected

And I could see right through her plan

And when I slipped this mortal coil

I died a happy man!



    1. The family took just yesterday – the pic that is – so I thought I’d reveal the real ‘old fool’ rather than a shot from 4 years ago. I’m so old people expect me to smell – which I don’t by the way.

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