Shakespearean Shake-ups


All the world’s a stage,
The stage where we play out our life!
But maybe you should read these words
Before becoming a wife!
I’ll explain to you the ages your lover passes through
Before you are tempted to say the words ‘I do’!

His ‘Seven Ages’ began as an infant so small,
Who nurse coddles and cuddles all day.
He learns very early by making a noise
He’ll eventually get his own way.
He learns that his puking will, after a while,
Mean someone will wash him – after a night on the tiles!
And so with this knowledge very carefully filed
His first age ends.

He finds mewling doesn’t work as the years go by,
So develops the art of whining – thinks he’ll give that a try.
Does he pack his own satchel – remember he’s a boy –
Or does mummy do it for him, for her pride and joy?
And does he always walk to school, it really isn’t far,
Or does daddy hear his mewling and take him in the car?
His childhood years go quickly, as they so often do
And it isn’t long before he’ll have completed his stage two.

Stage three is the lover – Oh Ladies, please beware!
The woeful ballad never leaves them and their sighing fills the air.
If they lose one of their possessions its always you to blame,
Be it screw or be it hammer, or something much the same.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure your lover will be kind
But once married I bet your eyebrows will be the last thing on his mind!

Stage four becomes the soldier – his language seems to change,
He swears and shouts and curses in an ungentlemanly rage.
His temper may flair in no more than a trice,
When a more peaceful method could have often sufficed!
Don’t worry girls, its just a phase – it won’t stay,
Its the foul and fearful image that he’s trying to portray.
The designer stubble’s grown to make him look strong – 
Yet if he gets a cold you’ll soon know where you belong!

By stage five its all over, his figure now round,
He’s full of wise sayings, his wisdom profound.
His eyes look severe, his beard well dyed,
A pillar of society, he now walks with pride.
Has he really changed – or has he intended
To take up the cudgel that life has presented?
The fiery youth is no longer a fighter,
He gets beaten in battle – so turns into ‘adviser’.

The sixth age appears as he sits in his chair
Bemoaning the loss of his luxuriant hair.
He sits by the fire – yes, I know, I know –
I know it’s summer but now cold is his foe.
He wears comfy slippers and sips his cocoa,
Things he wouldn’t be seen dead doing years ago.
Oh, where did your sighing lover go?

He now prefers soup because of his teeth,
He finds it easier than chewing tough meat.
He peers over spectacles as he takes his cup,
Offering a heart breaking smile to make you well up.
He takes out his teeth to remove a pip
Before putting them back and taking a sip.

Last scene of all to end the show –
Where did that dashing young soldier go?
Why do we do it – for love – or rather
To bring the world more boy infants who’ll turn out like their father?
What happened to the child that sauntered to school?
What happened to the young man, dressed Oh so cool?
Don’t be surprised as our play takes its bow –
Because he’s probably sitting next to you, right now!