I'm tired of television,
I'm sick of stupid Soaps,
I'm weary of the quiz shows,
Fed up with horoscopes.

I'm through with morbid movies
And cretins talking trash;
I'm bored with naughty novels
With all that balderdash.

I've had my fill of football,
Ice hockey leaves me cold;
I once enjoyed skiing,
But now I'm too damn old.

Perhaps I'll take up ping pong,
Or start collecting stamps;
I might, I guess, try swimming,
Except I get the cramps.

There's always golf or bowling,
Gin rummy, chess or pool;
I could, of course, go sailing
Or even back to school.

I've thought about line dancing,
Art classes to pursue,
But all such other pastimes
Somehow seem boring too.

I'm plum' worn out from writing,
I'm pooped with playing bridge;
So what on earth to do now? . . .
I know! I'll raid the fridge!

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