Here’s the last of the limericks on the elderly, for now, at least. No more have appeared on the slate, since that feverish moment last week. So it must have been a passing phase. Now, the limerick:
We aged sit quiet on our fretter,*
In summer we wear coat and sweater,
Our eyesight grows dimmer,
Our cooker’s on simmer,
Than dying we say it’s still better.
*A worn or eroded place.