Gave yet another lecture. God, I’m boring.
Said all the same old things I’ve said before
With touches of ‘however-ing’ and ‘therefore-ing’.
Dear God, it’s true, I’m just an ancient bore.
If only I could tap my old exuberance,
High spirits that I plied in days of yore,
Then maybe I would find a kind deliverance
From the curse of being such a bloody bore.
For I’m the model of a modern academic.
I’m absolutely super at ennui.
I’m just stunning when it comes to a polemic,
And boredom’s snoredom’s what I guarantee.
I’m putting extra pennies in my pension.
Retirement beckons and the garden calls,
That beautiful, botanical dimension
Where boilersuited pensioners scratch their balls.
But I’ve a problem, and it’s called ‘work ethic’, so
I’ll slog on with the daily, dreary toil.
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, what a lousy way to go,
To work all day then burn the midnight oil.
About this poem
In 2015 the Scottish Poetry Library commissioned poets Douglas Dunn, Vicki Feaver and Diana Hendry to write on the theme of age. Their poems appear together in Second Wind as part of the Saltire Society's pamphlet series. The project as a whole is supported by The Baring Foundation, as one of its series of 'Late Style' artist commissions.