I turned into a grumpy old woman
The day I became sixty three,
And I am quite happy to own that
Its what I’m entitled to be.
My friend wants to try meditation
To get rid of her grumpy bits,
I pleaded with her to forget it,
For at our age, grumpiness fits.
We’ve a right to complain about children
Who are noisy and thoughtless and rude,
We’re entitled to make our objections
To men who are loutish and crude.
What’s wrong with us issuing protests
To people who bitch and complain,
But reject the advice that we give them
And repeat the same patterns again?
No one can convince me its grumpy
To object when our rights are infringed,
To set standards and boundaries and limits
And make sure they’re never impinged.
So call me a grumpy old woman,
Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn,
I’m a grumpy old bat in my sixties,
This is me and I love what I am!
Lynne Joyce, 26.04.2011