I once was young and knew it all.
For advice on no one would I call.
There was little in life that I feared,
In fact, the authorities were often, by me, jeered.

As teen years approached this attitude prevailed.
It mattered not to have tried and failed.
Challenges were met with little concern.
I, obviously, had very much to learn.

As a young adult to a crossroad I came.
I could no longer pursue fortune or fame.
Life was not always going to be
Only that which I had chosen to see.

In turning from my youthful, pride-filled way
I heard one smarter than I say,
“There is always someone smarter than you,
His advice, therefore, you should eagerly pursue.”

Old age is viewed in different ways,
Depending on how you spend your days.
From a youngster’s view it is so far away,
Yet, when it arrives, youth was “yesterday”.

To anticipate “forty”, ‘tis a thing that is true,
Which often makes one sad and blue.
To think after this of reaching “fifty”,
Is to some, “Not very nifty.”

“Sixty or “Seventy” is way out of reach,
Many will themselves, deliberately teach.
While these thoughts are each “quite weighty”,
Have you given much thought to reaching “eighty”?

Yes, old age is a thing most will see,
It should be pursued with much glee.
For to have not reached this joyful goal,
Is to have missed many blessings untold.

The eagle soared to heights above,
Then swooped down to the ground,
To that place that he had grown to love
Where sustenance could be found.

Up above where the air is thin,
He has an amazing view.
It is there his pursuit will begin
To ****** a rat, or shrew.

The astonished victim down below,
Tries to his dismay to flee.
“How can the eagle possibly know,
That I will not long be free?”

Accuracy in vision, as well as in flight,
The eagle can rightly claim.
Supremacy in nearly every fight,
Adds much to his ongoing fame.

Extraordinary creature, certainly is he,
The master of the sky.
Most of creation will surely agree,
And will never try to defy.

Redneck, they sometimes call me,
Though I do not understand why.
Simple is what some choose to be,
Instead of “pie in the sky”.

To stay at home and a quiet evening spend,
Instead of “painting the town”.
To not go after every modern trend,
To be content to just “hang around”.

Flashy clothes, I do not wear,
Overalls are my frequent attire.
For wing-tip shoes, I do not care,
Boots are all that I require.

“Old-fashioned” is another term,
That often to me is applied,
By those who choose never to learn
That “old” ways have not all died.

Being old - fashioned is not nearly so bad,
As many mistakenly think.
It is better far than holding modern fads,
That disappear quick as a blink.

Morality, truth, honor, respect,
Are some of those things not lost.
By those who will not be side-tracked,
By the modern day “new ideas” host.

Yes, I will continue to be “outdated”,
And with bad accusations not care.
These many years I have waited,
Now, my label with pride I do wear.

He came into their yard one dreary day,
Hoping that he there from the rain could stay.
They gazed at him standing there in his miserableness
And quickly realized that he would be more than a guest.

He could not have been more than a few months old,
Standing there timidly yet trying to be bold.
Friendliness he showed with wagging tail,
Convinced that in their favor he would prevail.

They gladly welcomed him into their home,
Wondering from where he had so carelessly roamed.
No average pup was this lovely pooch,
They could not, therefore, name him “*****.”

They contemplated for more than an hour or two,
To reach a conclusion for a name that was new.
It could not be “Rover” or simply “Fido”,
Because of his class, it must be Phydeaux.

There are three ways to do things these days, it seems,
And so the confusion abounds.
As one wishes, plans, and strenuously schemes
To do that novel thing he has found.

There is a right way which is always right,
No matter what others may think.
It seems though that some say with all of their might,
That this way is that which does stink.

Another way there is which is always wrong
And this way many will not leave.
The wrongness they are often pointedly shown,
Yet they simply will not believe.

Then there is a way that is mine. All mine!
It is the way I usually choose.
This way is right in my mind, I opine,
To admit that it is wrong, I refuse!

So I will keep plugging along this path,
Regardless of what others may say.
I will even endure their ridicule and wrath,
When they say there is a much better way.

In the house on the corner lived a huge yellow cat.
This cat was clumsy and a wee bit fat.
He was constantly being pestered by a troublesome rat,
Who was playing with his mind by hiding under a hat.

The cat thought to himself, “I’ll fix this pest,
I’ll prepare for him a cozy nest.”
However, when it was put to the extreme test,
The rat said to him, “Surely you jest!”

The nest was ignored all the way around,
The rat could be heard making an annoying sound.
Nowhere near this nest would he be found,
From his distance the annoyance would continually resound.

The moral of the story is quite simple you see,
The rat was content to antagonize with glee.
The cat, however, no happy camper was he,
He simply was as dumb as could be.