THOU SHALT NOT

‘Tis no use to quarrel and grumble,

Blame the fate that makes it so;

Doesn’t help to storm and bluster

Or shout aloud my bitter woe.

There it is, no use to quibble;

Stubborn yes, but can't deny it

When the Doctor, smug, indiff’rent,

Says, “Old Man You’ll Have To Diet”.

No porkchops nor fried potatoes,

Beans and hamhocks must forget;

Rare fried steaks also forbidden,

And my eyes with tears are wet.

Can’t have coffee, same as poison,

Likewise tea is also banned;

Alcohol is out the window,

Seems as if someone had planned -

To take out the joy from living,

“Thou Shalt Not” forever mine;

But if care I’m excercising,

On other things I still may dine.

Cream of Wheat and quivery jello,

Soup and soup and soup and soup;

Soft boiled eggs and pureed celery,

My sad stomach loops the loop.

Crackers, milk and bread that’s toasted,

Soft poached eggs have for a change:

I feel sort o’ numb and useless,

Like an old dog with the mange.

It has caused some sober thinking,

Not for me to rave and curse;

But it seems for some queer reason,

Everything is in reverse.

As a lad, ate what I wanted,

And the past just now I scan;

Sat right up at mother’s table,

Ate my food just like a man.

Years have gone, yet, none forgotten,

Leaves an old boy sort o’ riled;

Three Score Ten just ‘round the corner,

And I’m eating like a child.

                                    H. B. Austin - '55

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