Old Man Murphy said, “I must confide. In the dark, sometimes I cried.”

“Like my father and his father before. They got less. They wanted more.”

Said: ‘To thine self we must be true. Then he lied to me and I to you.

“The changing times, I’m over it. I miss your mom, just a little bit.”

We walk this path. It’s me and you.  I don’t know much. That much is true.

Count your friends. They will be few. Learn to dance, the old soft shoe.

You face your fears, and you still die. It does no good to wonder why.