Thou Shalt Not

'Tis no use to quarrel and grumble,
Blame the fate that makes it so;
Doesn't help to storm and bluster
Or shout aloud my bitter woe.

There it is, no use to quibble;
Stubborn yes, but can't deny it
When the Doctor, smug, indiff'rent,
Says, "Old Man You'll Have To Diet".

No porkchops nor fried potatoes,
Beans and hamhocks must forget;
Rare fried steaks also forbidden,
And my eyes with tears are wet.

Can't have coffee, same as poison,
Likewise tea is also banned;
Alcohol is out the window,
Seems as if someone had planned -

To take out the joy from living,
"Thou Shalt Not" forever mine;
But if care I'm excercising,
On other things I still may dine.

Cream of Wheat and quivery jello,
Soup and soup and soup and soup;
Soft boiled eggs and pureed celery,
My sad stomach loops the loop.

Crackers, milk and bread that's toasted,
Soft poached eggs have for a change:
I feel sort o' numb and useless,
Like an old dog with the mange.

It has caused some sober thinking,
Not for me to rave and curse;
But it seems for some queer reason,
Everything is in reverse.

As a lad, ate what I wanted,
And the past just now I scan;
Sat right up at mother's table,
Ate my food just like a man.

Years have gone, yet, none forgotten,
Leaves an old boy sort o' riled;
Three Score Ten just 'round the corner,
And I'm eating like a child.

H. B. Austin - '55