Now they tell you it's time to retire.
No more running for trains.
Think of that when it rains.
Just a book by a cosy old fire.
No more minutes or flues.
Or those "mags" in great piles
or he "bumff" that was sent to inspire.
So we'll wish you goodbye.
(that a tear in your eye?
or the smoke from your favorite briar.?)
Now our caps we will doff.
Mr Bone, your A toff.
Good luck to the dreams you aspire.
E.H. White
