The Centenarians

I asked of ancient gaffers three The way of their ripe living, And this is what they told to me Without Misgiving. The First: 'The why I've lived so long, To my fond recollection Is that for women, wine and song I've had a predilection. Full many a bawdy stave I've sung With wenches of my choosing, But of the joys that kept me young The best was boozing.' The Second: 'I'm a sage revered Because I was a fool And with the bourgeon of my beard I kept my ardour cool. On health I have conserved my hold By never dissipating: And that is why a hundred old I'm celebrating.' The Third: 'The explanation I Have been so long a-olding, Is that to wash I never try, Despite conjugal scolding. I hate the sight of soap and so I seldom change my shirt: Believe me, Brother, there is no Preservative like dirt.' So there you have the reasons three Why age may you rejoice: Booze, squalour and temerity,-- Well, you may take your choice. Yet let me say, although it may Your egoism hurt, Of all the three it seems to me The best is DIRT.