The Ultimate Sinatra Anthem
(if he’d managed to “survive to a hundred and five”)
When I was eighty-five
It was a pretty good year
It was a pretty good year
For middle-aged broads
Who crowded the stage
Half-ignoring my age
My lawyer would drive
When I was eighty-five
When I was ninety-two
It was a tolerable year
It was a tolerable year
For ladies with canes
And big purple veins
My ties had odd stains
My jockey shorts too
When I was ninety-two
When I was ninety-nine
Hell, now . . . what was the year?
It was a miserable year
With some bitch who tricked me
For power of attorney
She picked out my gurney
Sal put one in her ear
It was a miserable year
Now I’m older than dirt
Is “Dirt” some drummer I knew?
And now I think of my life
As a doctor’s appointment
A pain in the ass
And I’ve always got gas
“My Way”? Yeah, my rear!
Please not one more damn year
Mick Jagger Celebrates
the Stones’ 100th Anniversary
($25,000 pay-per-view on your 12K 4D TV)
I was born in a crossfire hurricane
And now I-I-I-I got the sacroiliac pain
But it’s all-ll-ll right
Long as my pain meds last
Yeah it’s all-ll-ll right
I’m Geriatric Jack and I’m gassed gassed gassed
I got aches up on top o’ my older aches
I’m a great-great-grandfather for heaven’s sake!
But it’s all-ll-ll right, I can just live in the past
Yeah, it’s all-ll-ll right
I’m Geriatric Jack and I’m gassed gassed gassed
Used to chill with a toke and a bit o’ blow
Now I’m hooked on the Vitamin E, y’know?
But it’s all-ll-ll right — if the freshness date ain’t passed
Yeah, it’s all-ll-ll right
I’m Geriatric Jack and I’m gassed gassed gassed
I am dancin’ around like a limpin’ fool
And a roadie has to wipe away my drool
But it’s all-ll-ll right, actually, no, I’m aghast
No, it’s not right
I’m Geriatric Jack and I’m gassed gassed gassed
(Keith Richards’ wheelchair motors up to a mike.
He sings with a cigarette still in his mouth.)
Geriatric Jack, he’s all gassed
Geriatric Jack, he’s all gassed
Geriatric Jack, he’s all gassed . . .