Just days after the departure of Doris Day
Tim Conway has gone and gone the same way,
He’s done last his run, he’s taken his final bow,
He’ll be asking Saint Peter about any openings by now.
Who could ever forget
Tim cracking up Carol Burnett
And leaving the entire set
With cheeks and tidy-whities wet?
So Tim has sadly gone, and only God knows why-
Perhaps, these days, He feels He needs a funny guy?
Lordy, it’s not for us to question the likes of Thou
But he’s gone, and left, and it’s a sadder world now.
Surgery For The Ol’ Devil.
Old Sir Mick just keeps on a’rolling,
Geriatric Mick prefers jiving to strolling,
But now, in his seventies his step’s begun to stutter
His high-living past has set his stony heart all a’flutter.
A dickey heart valve needs refurbishment
For Micks old ticker’s taken some punishment,
There’s no doubt when it comes to wear and tear
Micks plucky organ’s done more than its fair share.
Now the old pump is suffering from overuse,
But in Micks case it sure ain’t down to self abuse,
Cigarettes and bad habits have contributed to his current issues
But his old wives and girlfriends won’t be reaching for the tissues.
Don says he’s vibrant, strong and young,
He modestly stated this in his self -critique
Earlier this week.
To this childish delusion Don has long clung,
Yet most view our old boy as past his peak,
Practically, an antique.
Don has his guilt-edged golden tongue
Deeply, firmly wedged in his- cheek.
So to speak.
Big Buck Teeth.
What happened to my sunny smile?
That charming grin that used to beguile
Has not graced my dial for quite a while.
Nowadays my smile looks like it’s slipped,
Nowadays I find I’m keeping it tight-lipped,
The ol’ enamel’s looking cracked and chipped.
My teeth no longer whitely gleam,
My once winning smile, it does now seem
Is a sight to make a dental hygienist scream.
My snaggle-toothed smile I would repair;
It was only as I lay back in the dentist’s chair
That I realized this could become a painful affair.
Now, I know a visit to the dentist
Is a joy and pleasure not to be missed,
You’ll leave smiling- if you’re a masochist.
Yes, one visit can cause quite the thrill,
So, embrace the sweet agony of the drill-
The truly traumatizing bit is getting the bill.
Sorry, Luke Perry, for you, at 52, it’s time to go,
Yep, your number’s up, it’s Forest Lawn, not 90210,
Your final role is an unrehearsed and tragic one,
You’ve played your bit part, now the play is done.
E’en now, once teenage girls cry into their bouquets,
Pining, remembering a Dylan back in his salad days,
Still, Luke won’t have to see a slow sad decline,
To face his once-fresh face settle on another line.