The Road to Old Man's Town

The poem

The fields of youth are filled with flowers, The wine of youth is strong: What need have we to count the hours? The summer days are long. But soon we find to our dismay That we are drifting down The barren slopes that fall away Towards the foothills grim and grey That lead to Old Man's Town.

And marching with us on the track Full many friends we find: We see them looking sadly back For those who've dropped behind

But God forfend a fate so dread -- Alone to travel down The dreary road we all must tread, With faltering steps and whitening head, The road to Old Man's Town!