You cannot say I didn't try
To keep our fires burning
To stoke them once before we die
And awaken dormant yearnings
On our 70th anniversary
Thought I'd inject a little spice
Your reaction was less than cursory
When I said that you looked nice
I nibbled at your hairy ears
I even used my tongue
But instead you put the kettle on
And switched on Jimmy Young
So I chased you to the kitchen
To try and keep things on the simmer
But it took me nearly half an hour
To reach you with my Zimmer
I said " Come now my withering buttercup "
" How about one last piece of action? "
" Have you eaten all the biscuits again?! "
Was not the desired reaction
And so you left me with no choice
I had to implement Plan B
Though perhaps Plan Z is a little more apt
When you're pushing ninety-three
I had to stir your fading memories
And rekindle past adventures
So I took the plunge
With an unsteady lunge
I ripped your bra off with my dentures
Just like that time in 1935
Waiting for that train at Coulsdon South
Of course it seemed far sexier then
When the teeth were still in my mouth