Hippies get old but somehow they don’t change.
Kaftans and funny beads remain the thing
and tie-dye shirts, of course, but in’t it strange
they never took to lycra or to bling.
Despite a lifetime living without meat,
preferring pulses to a juicy steak,
they don’t look fit, instead they look dead beat
and slouch around with every joint an ache.
The other sort of joints have done them in,
their lungs went all to pieces long ago
and at the Vale Earth Fair, to their chagrin,
their progress up the hill is really slow.
Without a fancy stairlift it’s no good:
the hill up to Vale Castle’s far too steep.
The young ones point and laugh, it’s very rude.
Harsh words can make an ancient Hippy weep.
One told me that he thinks enough’s enough.
He won’t be trekking up there any more.
Each time he climbs the hill he’s out of puff
and can’t remember what he came up for.
Oscar Milde
