To celebrate what would have been John Lennon's seventieth birthday.
CARRY ON TUESDAY
The words in blue are the first words of John Lennon's 'Beautiful Boy'.
THAT SEVENTH DECADE!
Close your eyes; have no fear!
Though your seventh decade's here,
You'll be, when it arrives,
Like the cat who's got nine lives!
I am just completing mine
And my life is still just fine!
Middle-age is devastating
'I am old!' we keep on stating!
Fifty! Sixty! Not too good,
But make sure you keep touching wood,
So that you cross the Rubicon
When your Middle Age has gone.
Life just blossoms! That's the truth!
All the travails of your youth
Will fade away like morning mist!
You'll find you are an optimist!
When your seventieth birthday dawns,
Sound the trumpets, blare the horns!
Free from trouble! Free from strife!
Start the best time of your life!
Now to the sad bit...... there are some
For whom the halcyon days wont come.
John Lennon, cut off in his prime,
Will never know this lovely time.
My sister, too, has been denied
Her seventies, because she died.
So those of us who've got this far
Should certainly thank our lucky star!
John and my sister both have gone
But some of us keep soldiering on!
And in our thoughts and reveries
We always keep their memories.
Open your eyes! Have no fear
Though your seventh decade's here!
As we walked down the hill from Farley,
Past the gates of Alton Towers,
We saw the hedgerows pricked out
With the first of the Springtime flowers.
Betty and I were schoolgirls,
In our skirts of navy-blue,
White shirts, green ties and jumpers,
Plus thick lisle stockings too.
We were not given to wildness,
We were, in fact, quite staid,
But we had paid no attention
To the difference that Springtime made.
The greens were suddenly vibrant,
The soil had a richer smell,
The birds were frantically nesting,
And, suddenly, strange to tell.....
Two schoolgirls became enchanted,
Like nymphs from some ancient tale,
Overcome by the magical freshness,
After winter had grown stale.
We came to a farm-gate, open,
Inviting us to step through,
And, without a word, we did so,
Into a world brand new.
Laughing we stripped off stockings,
Untied constricting ties,
Tossed those symbols of winter
Toward the shimmering skies.
The meadow seemed elevated,
Above the pastures around.
There was something sacred about it.
Yes, this was our sacred ground.
The grass was damp from a shower,
Our feet were soon washed clean,
Freshened and blessed with renewal,
Young feet in a sea of green.
And we danced to an inward rhythm,
We danced to an unheard song,
We shouted aloud to our music
As we galloped and pranced along.
And we laughed like two girls demented,
Well, maybe we were, in a way.
But, oh, what a glorious madness
Entered our souls that day!
Don't tell me you know about Springtime,
You really don't, you know.
Only Betty and I knew Springtime,
In a meadow long ago.