#21 - Seven Ages: Old Age

John Bull taking a luncheon, James Gillray 1798

 

A ward ‘gainst civil strife and chilly weather –

lock all your doors, and wear a fluffy snood;

mistrust the ‘foreigners’ (but eat their food),

bemoan the lack of feeling in your nethers.

Recite the Telegraph and think you’re clever:

“Minorities lack moral rectitude!”

Divide, deprive, harass, oppress, exclude –

defend the white man’s privilege forever.

 

I hope to god I don’t become my Dad.

I have no taste for droning, whining, cold –

inert as my compassion ossifies.

I’ll try to stay this shop-soiled Galahad:

still seeking truth and beauty when I’m old –

and knowing I know nothing, therefore wise.

 

AWB

#1 - Seven Fukujin: Ebisu

 

    You’re hungry? I got what you really need.

Just stick with me, my son – I’ll see you right.

Why, you look undernourished, poor wee mite!

Ebisu’s got you covered – guaranteed!

I’ll sort you out a mammoth, cracking feed:

we’ll feast and fart into the blessed night!

And when this jolly blowout’s at its height,

you’ll say a prayer, and give me thanks – agreed?

    And fish! Oh boy! just think about the fish!

The carp, the codfish, shark (tho just the fin –

I’ll fix a soup if that’s the way you roll).

I’m here to grant your every hungered wish,

and then I’ll leave you, with contented grin,

a bursting belly, and one sated soul.

AWB