Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you're looking at me?
A cranky old man, not very wise, with faraway eyes?
Who let's you do as you will, with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?
Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse, you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am as I do at your bidding, eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten, with a father and mother, brothers and sisters, who love one another.
A young boy of sixteen, with wings on his feet, dreaming that soon now a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at twenty, my heart gives a leap, remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own, who need me to guide them.
And a secure happy home.
A man of thirty, my young now growing fast, bound to each other with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone.
But my woman is beside me, to see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee.
Again, we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my wife is now dead.
I look at the future and shudder with dread.
And I think of the years, and the love that I've known, I'm now an old man, and nature is cruel.
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart.
There is now a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass, a young man still dwells, and now and again, my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain.
I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast, and accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people open and see.
Not a cranky old man, look closer, see ME!

Country, folk, storytelling