“We’ve all done this because we’re so mature. You see a cow on the side of the road, stick your head out the window and go, “Mooooo!” Like we expect the cow to think, “Hey, there’s another cow, driving that car! How can he afford that?”
It’s your birthday, there is no cure, Cakes and candles, you must endure, Quick and painless, let me assure, A tiny chance, you will be mature, With this crowd, usually secure, Random fun, with results obscure, Liquids we drink, definitely pure, Goofy friends, minds we tour, Hilarious birthday, that’s for sure.
“I’m going to get married again because I’m more mature now, and I need some kitchen stuff.” - Wendy Liebman
"Husbands are like wine, they take a long time to mature." —Donatella in Letters to Juliet
“I’m going to get married again because I’m more mature now, and I need some kitchen stuff.”—Wendy Liebman
A Senior's Rhyme
Today at the drugstore, the clerk was a gent.
From my purchase, this chap took off 10 percent.
I asked for the cause of a lesser amount;
And he answered, “Because of the Seniors Discount.”
I went to McDonald’s for a burger and fries;
And there, once again, got quite a surprise.
The clerk poured some coffee which he handed to me.
He said, “For you seniors, the coffee is free.”
Understand — I’m not old — I’m merely mature;
But some things are changing, temporarily, I’m sure.
The newspaper print gets smaller each day,
And people speak softer — can’t hear what they say.
My teeth are my own (I have the receipt),
and my glasses identify people I meet.
Oh, I’ve slowed down a bit… not a lot, I am sure.
You see, I’m not old… I’m only mature.
The gold in my hair has been bleached by the sun.
You should see all the damage that chlorine has done.
Washing my hair has turned it all white,
But don’t call it gray… saying “blond” is just right.
My car is all paid for… not a nickel is owed.
Yet a kid yells, “Old duffer… get off of the road!”
My car has no scratches… not even a dent.
Still, I get all that guff from a punk who’s “Hell bent.”
My friends all get older… much faster than me.
They seem much more wrinkled, from what I can see.
I’ve got “character lines,” not wrinkles… for sure,
But don’t call me old… just call me mature.
The steps in the houses they’re building today
Are so high that they take… your breath all away;
And the streets are much steeper than 10 years ago.
That should explain why my walking is slow.
But I’m keeping up on what’s hip and what’s new,
And I think I can still dance a mean boogaloo.
I’m still in the running… in this I’m secure,
I’m not really old… I’m only mature!