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

Any Last Words?
There was an Englishman, an Irishman, and a Scotsman, who were going to be shot.

On the day of the executions, they take the Scotsman outside.

"Any last words?", they asked.

He yelled "Earthquake!" and whilst the firing squad were running about in a panic, he climbed the wall and got away.

The Englishman, seeing this, thought he'd try it, so when his turn came.

He shouted "Flood!", and similarly escaped in the ensuing confusion.

The Irishman thought this was a good plan, too so when they asked him for his last words, he yelled "Fire!"