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It's all outlined in his most famous poem, "Sprung and Fell."
Margaret, are you crabby
'Cos you sprung and now you're scabby?
Jumps, like the stocks bought uptown,
Have gone up once and then tend to come down.
Ah, as the bod gets older
It collects ouch marks much bolder,
Black and blue, absorb them all,
Though some of zitty splendor stall
And make you weep before the ball.
So no matter, kid, the mark -
Kneecap scabs might be dark
Yet grey hair, faded eyes, await.
Age's marks come, it's fate.
It's the pits we were born for -
It's those liver spots you mourn for.
I think I need to get back to work.....
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