It's nice to dress up from time to time
to prove to the world we still can.
We re-enact ourselves at our prime,
back before our descent began,
when that hill didn't seem so high to climb,
that valley so far to span.
We'd find a foothold in every next rhyme;
each verse, sure enough, would scan.
On rainy days there'd of course be some slime,
though becoming of each man,
composing his life out line by line
and sporting a natural tan.
And today we dress ourselves up to mime
our faded, dandy elan.
We dance for a nickel, tell jokes for a dime,
just like Ollie and Stan.
Yes, it's nice to dress up from time to time
as elders of this, our clan.
Sartorial swagger ain't no crime,
nor is kicking an old tin can.
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