When you're old, weary,
forgetful and dreary,
your grandchild will sit on your lap,
And insists you narrate your story,
before he goes for a nap.
Perch that kid atop your knee,
and tell him your delightful story.
Tell him how you studied biology,
And the science of the body,
And the wonders of economics,
And how to make accounts tally,
Bore him silly with math rules,
And crap you picked up in schools,
how algebra helped you land a job,
And physics helped you convince a mob,
On your first date,
You dined with your certificate ,
And all those sums in calculus,
Helped you during your first kiss,
How law helped you win your wife,
And grammar stopped you from taking your life,
when your spouse and you fought,
accounting rules sorted it out,
Tell him when down on your knees,
You were uplifted by degrees,
When overcome with emotions,
You narrated equations,
Tell him when nights got colder,
Geography gave you its shoulder,
Tell him medicine cures all aches
Including the vacuum of heartbreaks,
And when you're dead in your grave,
And flesh is turning to bone,
While placing flowers at your tombstone,
The Income tax laws will mourn.
