Poetry Breakfast #22 – Let Me Die A Youngman’s Death

Let Me Die A Gourmand’s Death
(ta, Roger McGough)

Let me die a gourmand’s death
not a slim and skinny
skim milk decaf latte death
not a soup-and-salad
lite low calorie death

When I’m 73
and with constant full gut
may I be choked down at dawn
by a bright red shrimp tail
from the spicy thai noodle
sidewalk vendor cart

Or when I’m 91
with blood-rare steak
and sitting in a supper club
may rival food critics
with hamfisted adjectives burst in
and take away my fork

Or when I’m 104
and banned from the bars
may my caretaker
catching me in bed with a brioche loaf
and fearing for her job
cut it up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a gourmand’s death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
waistline wax and waning death
not a bland, mushy, gum-it-down
‘it’s salsbury steak night’ death

Let Me Die A Youngman’s Death
Roger McGough

Let me die a youngman’s death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I’m 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I’m 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber’s chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I’m 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman’s death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
‘what a nice way to go’ death

Source: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/let-me-die-a-youngman-s-death/