If I could grow one single hair,
upon this bald old head.
I would be a happy man,
as long as its not red.
If I could shave my face at night,
and have it last a week.
I feel that would be so nice,
and not feel quite so bleak.
And if I could stand erect,
and not all stooped and bent.
Then I would be a happy man,
and you wouldn't hear me vent.
If I could remember things,
that used to be so easy.
Then maybe I would like it here,
and not complain that it's so breezy.
It seems I get less company,
the older I become.
I forget what I am saying,
as I think my brain is numb.
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