Hooray! I’m A Gold-Card Girl
Hooray! I am a gold-card girl.
The old codger is dead.
Now I can let down my curl and have a young lover in bed.
I don’t have to listen to
war stories where everyone dies.
I can see my future glisten,
never mind about those French-Kokoda Track lies.
I’m grateful he didn’t share my bed.
I was his princess wife;
unlike the old hag ex-wife
who believed his night-horror’s strife.
I’m a gold-card girl.
I can dance.
I can dance on my dainty legs in a whirl,
right past his ex-wife, a wife of forty years; I can prance.
She, the old hag, stands at Centrelink in line to simply beg
while I live a life sublime.
I can dance with a sneer on my face;
Past my halitosis, menopausal
Step-daughter who is in a daze;
Unlike her, I have free dental care at my disposal.
And when I'm her age, I won’t have to work,
So I will rage,
For my card’s such a lurk.
Hooray! I’m a gold-card girl.
The old codger is dead.
Now I can let down my curl
And have a young lover in bed.
And won’t have to listen to tales of old.
© Judy Brumby-Lake
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