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Turning Old If I turn old I'll be ever so bold, with a purple bow in my hair. May be funny, but still fair. If I turn old with a wrinkle or fold, I'll skip on the walk even talk the talk. If I turn old I'll break up the mold learn to give a whistle, be scratchy as an old thistle. If I turn old I'll holler an scold, learn to spat a spit, maybe throw a fit. If I turn old with embers hot not cold, my crutch I'll run through pickets give a whack on the wickets. In the meantime I'll be nice, mostly fine. Live each day without a whine and set my life to rhyme. |
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This is just for fun!
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