
‘Sleep’ – WHB … pencil
The Old Insomniac
Old age has its delights,
Its pensions and its freebies,
But, oh, the restless nights
Give me the heeby jeebies.
My pleasures are so various,
From playing cards to skiing,
Some dubious, some precarious,
From lawn bowls to sight-seeing.
But at night I still can’t sleep;
Perhaps I am too active?
Instead of counting sheep
I need something more distractive.
Maybe I’ll take up yoga,
Or write another will,
Decamp to Saratoga
– Or just take another pill!
