When i am old, I will not wear purple

 

When I am old I will not wear purple.

 

They say I will wear purple when I get old.
My sense of dress then will be ever so bold.
Though I like purple my age will not matter
wearing short dresses even though I am fatter.

I will wear big clumpy old boots with a reinforced heel.
No slippers with Velcro, nor a Zimmer with wheels.
My mobility scooter will have go faster stripes
attacking pedestrians with Boadicea spikes.

My hair though now fading is pulled up in a bun.
With a devil head shaving on the side should be fun.
Maybe I’ll get a tattoo of a man in the nude!
Or a skull with a snake, something that’s crude

Bingo! No thanks, I will out on the town.
To dance until midnight and let my hair down.
I will drink till I’m silly, pass out in the street
and give those police men a really fun treat.

When I get old, no white cliffs of Dover.
Won’t be singing a song about a dog that’s called rover.
I will sing ‘smack my bitch up’ standing at the bus queue
Thunderstruck by AC/DC I will hum quite a few.