When I am an old woman
I shall wear purple with a red hat which doesn't go,
and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandels,
and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells and run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobrierty of my youth. I shall go out in my slippers in the
rain And pick the flowers in other people's gardens And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat And eat three pounds of sausage at a go
or only bread and pickles for a week And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
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