The young, of course, do not know what I mean:
Invisible's a most unwelcome way
To spend my golden years. I have to say
That life was better back when I was seen,
For now I pass through shops and down the street
And spot no ladies looking my direction;
No longer even worthy of inspection,
Wan condescending smiles are all I meet.
Yes, there were those who tried to warn me then:
Son, live each hour of youth like it's your last.
Their voices echo often from the past:
You'll never know such glory days again.
And yet I shall not wear my trousers rolled,
Nor don white flannel down along the beach.
Though young man's clothes today are out of reach,
I bloody well won't dress like someone old !