Thursday, January 29, 2015

Birthday Poems

Nearly every year, Grandad would write a poem and take a picture for his birthday. Here is a compilation of the remaining birthday poems:

I haven’t gone to Hell or Heaven
So I’ve reached the age of seventy-seven
My teeth are false, my hair is thin
But I’m in good shape for the shape I’m in

I am so pudgy my clothes don’t fit
I don’t work much, I mostly sit
I thought perhaps you’d like to see
So I took this photograph of me

I may be old and weak and slow
But I’m not ready yet to go
So I’ll just let the Devil wait
Then next year I’ll be seventy-eight.

D.B. Cox

On this very important date
I reached the age of seventy-eight

I wasn’t sure that I’d survive
But I think that I am still alive

My teeth are false, my hair’s still thin
I’m still OK for the shape I’m in

I have a lot of high-powered pills
To cure all kids of Old Age Ills

If I take my pills I’ll be just fine
Then next year I’ll be seventy-nine

D.B. Cox


I’ve reached the age of seventy-nine
I says to myself, “I’m feeling fine”
Self says, “Your aches and pains are few
But you’ve got lots of miles on you”

Then I says, “Yes but I’m all right
Cause I don’t smoke or drink or fight
And even though I may be queer
I’ll be eighty this time next year”

D.B. Cox

I’ve reached the age of eighty
And life has just begun
I’m in my second childhood
I should have lots of fun

If I have lots of aches and pains
It’s mostly in my head
Forget about the aches and pains
That’s what the doctor said

If I reach up for things real high
Look out, alas, alack!
Instead of getting what I want
I fall flat on my back

And then if I stoop over
To clean up this old place
I just keep going forward
And fall flat on my face

My toenails need trimming
To do that would be neat
But here’s the trouble with that chore
I cannot reach my feet

I’ll throw out my comb and brush
I’m running out of hair
My head resembles heaven
For there’s no parting there

It’s hard to read the paper
I have real poor eyesight
And all my teeth for just like stars
They come out every night

And when I go down town to eat
I find I’m prone to loiter
That’s the reason I’ve developed
This dad-burn table goiter

I guess that I’m real lucky
So I’ll stop feeling sore
And wonder what I’ll do if I
Hang on for eighty more

D.B. Cox


I’ve reach the age of eighty-two
For me that’s really something new
That equals two years plus four score
I’ve never been this old before

And though it’s sad I’ll try to grin
I’ll never be this young again
I try to cure most of my ills
By taking lots of high-priced pills

And even though I’m low on wealth
I’ll try to take care of my health
There’s lots of things I mustn’t do
So listed here are just a few

I will not ride in those fast cars
And I’ll stay out of all those bars
I won’t argue with any cop
And chasing girls will have to stop

I’ll do the things that are the best
And always get a lot of rest
I’ll be as good as I can be
Then next year I’ll be eighty-three

D.B. Cox 

I haven’t got to Hell or Heaven
And now it’s Nineteen-Eighty-Seven

I didn’t know if I’d survive
But I’m still here and half

I didn’t celebrate this year
I didn’t even have a beer

I hate to go out in the cold
I wonder if I’m getting old

I’ve reach the age of eighty-three
I’m still as happy as can be

If I catch cold and start to whine
I say to me, “You’re feeling fine”

I’m getting taller I declare
I’ve grown right straight up through my hair

If I can hand on for twelve months more
Then next year I’ll be eighty-four

D.B. Cox 


It’s Nineteen-Hundred-Eighty-Eight
And I’m too old to celebrate
I didn’t go to Hell or Heaven
In Nineteen-Hundred-Eighty-Seven

And I’m so glad that I’m still here
I’ll stay at least another year
I hope it’s better in Eighty-Eight
And the world’s not filled with so much hate

I’ve reached the age of eighty-four
That’s older than I’ve been before
It makes me sad to realize
I’ll never be this young again

So I’ll keep right on plugging away
And exercise most every day
And I’ll behave and stay alive
Then next year I’ll be eighty-five

D.B. Cox


I guess I’m still alive because
I haven’t gone to Hell or Heaven
I’ve hung around another year
And reached the age of eighty-seven

I’ve never been this old before
I’ll take it with a grin
Because I’m really sure that I
Will never be this young again

I guess the Stork delivered me
In Nineteen-Hundred-Four
It really was an awful shock
I’d never been born before

It was a cold and blustery day
So he wrapped in a nice warm cover
Then left at a home so I
Would be close to my mother

When I was just a little type
I was ornery as could be
If I had been my parents
I would have drowned me

When I was old enough for school
I wasn’t too good and not too bad
But when I finally graduated
It sure did make the teachers glad

So I kept right on growing older
And getting bigger too
I finally reached adulthood
Like most all knot-heads do

I went to work in the oil fields
I was lucky to be hired
I worked for lots and lots of years
And finally retired

I’ve been retired for a long time now
There’s been some tears but lots of laughter
And lately I’ve been thinking about
That thing called the here-after

Some say that after we pass over
We could come back again
We might be almost anything
Expect we won’t be men

If we come back again they say
We don’t know what we’ll be
I wouldn’t want to be a fly
For someone might swat me

There are lots of things I think about
I wouldn’t want to be
I’d hate to be an old plow horse
For work and I do not agree

I wouldn’t want to be a pig
For instance an old shoat
Another thing I’d hate to be
Is a dadburn billy goat

I could come back as a grizzly bear
I don’t know how one feels
They sleep from fall until spring
That’s too long between meals

If I came back as a giraffe
That’s worse than being a goat
It would be revoltin’
If I got a sore throat

I might come back as a grey wolf
But I have heard it said
If I ate some old rancher’s sheep
He’d shoot me in the head

I’d hate to be a dadburn snake
That’s worse than being a their
They say when one crawls through the grass
That tickles underneath

I’ve thought about this coming back
But after hearing what’s been said
I don’t think I’ll come back again
I think I’ll just stay dead

D.B. Cox