Many times around the Sun, With many battles lost and won. A bat and ball are gifts no more,And no more castles by the shore. No more running through fields of hay,And no more flopping upon a sleigh. No building forts or climbing trees, It’s doctor’s visits on hurting knees. And watching cholesterol is what I do, Along with a shot to prevent the flu. And it wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, That “youth is wasted on the young.” But from me, there is no complaining, Cause there are many rounds of golf remaining.

















