I work or play, as I think best;
I fare abroad, or stay at home;
When weary, I sit down and rest;
I bid one go, another come--
Because I'm sixty!

When whistles blow with clamorous hue,
I rouse me not, as I was wont.
I do the things I like to do,
And leave undone the things I don't--
Because I'm sixty!

I grow not blind, nor deaf, nor lame,
I still can dance, and hear, and see,
But love the restful book or game;
No more the strenuous life for me,
I quit at sixty!

My toilet is my fondest care,
The serial story I peruse;
I glory in my silvering hair,
I love my comfortable shoes--
I'm glad I'm sixty!

Let youngsters lift the weary load,
And the burden tug and strain;
I love the easy, downward road;
I would not climb life's hill again--
Glory be! I'm sixty!
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