An ode to old age
There's quite an art to falling apart as the years go by,
And life doesn't begin at 40. That's a big fat lie.
My hair's getting thinner, my body is not;
The few teeth I have are beginning to rot.

I smell of Vick's-Vapo-Rub, not Chanel # 5;
My new pacemaker's all that keeps me alive.
When asked of my past, every detail I'll know,
But what was I doing 10 minutes ago?

Well, you get the idea, what more can I say?
I'm off to read the obituary, like I do every day;
If my names not there, I'll once again start -
Perfecting the art of falling apart

A sad mourner
A man placed some flowers on the grave of his departed mother and started back for his car, parked on the cemetery road. His attention was diverted to a man kneeling at a grave. The man seemed to be praying with profound intensity, and kept repeating, "Why did you die? Why did you die?" The first man approached him and said,"Sir, I don't want to interfere with your private grief, but this demonstration of hurt and pain is more than I've ever seen before. For whom do you mourn so deeply? Your Child? A parent? Who, may I ask, lies in that grave?"The mourner answered, "My wife's first husband! ... Why did you die? Why did you die?"