supplied the illustration
WOOD IF I COULD
Here lies an ancient Mr Wood;
He isn't feeling very good.
His shoulders, elbows, hips and knees
And other old joints such as these
Seem to have given up the ghost.
I don't know which one's hurting most.
Were he human, like you and me,
He would be fretting grievously,
Thinking of all the medical plans,
X-rays, injections, probes and scans!
All the looming operations,
Blood transfusions, medications!
All the weeks rehabilitating,
Every second so frustrating!
But he is wooden, so replacing
Wooden bits is all he's facing.
He will soon be lithe and limber
Aided by little bits of timber.
A human, made of flesh and blood,
By comparison, seems a dud!
Strut is a really lovely word!
And 'Strutting your stuff' is a phrase
That conjurs up a person
Who's 'with it' in many ways.
One doesn't strut unless one feels
Confident and charming;
A 'strutter' has a savoir faire
That is verging on alarming.
A strutter must be tall, of course,
A Strutter must be slim,
A Strutter must be beautiful
And sexy to the brim!
Now, Maxine has, let's say, panache,
And she's pretty entertaining,
But I doubt if she ever strutted
So I doubt if the strutting's waning!
Look at those legs! It's not just age
That's made them look that way!
Straight up and down and skinny too.
Like a chicken's in the hay!
Look at that bust! You can't tell me
It ever was curvaceous!
Look at that face! Imagine it
Dimpling and vivacious!
I know you can't because, you see,
She didn't have what it takes!
So she turned to being the soul of wit
About other folks' mistakes!
She sharpened her tongue since she never could
Be a sweet delectable cutie,
And, over the years, she practised till
Her witticisms were fruity.
Your stuff hasn't strutted off, Maxine!
It simply never existed.
And you're so droll and comical
That we never even missed it!