Poetry Sunday: Birthday by Robert William Service

When it comes to poetry, I'm a dipper. I don't tend to read entire books of poetry, but I dip into them from time to time, usually in search of an appropriate poem for this weekly feature. While "dipping" last week, I happened upon this little gem written by Robert Service in commemoration of his seventy-fifth birthday. It made me smile and I thought it might do the same for you.

Just for the record, I'm with Robert; I think eighty would be just about the appropriate time to recant my sins. Until then, let's whoop it up!

Birthday

by Robert William Service

(16th January 1949)

 I thank whatever gods may be

 For all the happiness that's mine; 

That I am festive, fit and free 

To savour women, wit and wine; 

That I may game of golf enjoy, 

And have a formidable drive: 

In short, that I'm a gay old boy 

Though I be Seventy-and-five.

My daughter thinks
because I'm old

 (I'm not a crock, when all is said), 

I mustn't let my feet get cold, 

And should wear woollen socks in bed; 

A worsted night-cap too, forsooth! 

To humour her I won't contrive: 

A man is in his second youth 

When he is Seventy-and-five.

At four-score years old age begins, 

And not till then, I warn my wife; 

At eighty I'll recant my sins, 

And live a staid and sober life.
But meantime let me whoop it up, 

And tell the world that I'm alive: 

Fill to the brim the bubbly cup - 

Here's health to Seventy-and-five!