It happens more and more as time goes by
and sometimes it could make an old bloke cry.
I’ll get on the train and there’s no empty seat
but I spy a cute chick who I’d like to meet.
Then she’ll get up and offer her seat to me,
‘cos I’m an “old bloke” she can plainly see.
And what do you do for a poor old bloke,
ya kick him in the ego, don’t give it a stroke.
With ego deflated I accept her gift
even though in my spirit there is a rift.
‘Cos to be quite honest, at end of day
the old bones are weary anyway
and what would I do with a hot young chick;
ya can’t burn the midnight oil if you can’t light the wick.