Moral

I am, I think I have remarked,
Terrifically old,
(The second Ice-age was a farce,
The first was rather cold.)

A friend of mine, a trilobite
Had gathered in his youth,
When trilobites were trilobites,
This all-important truth.

We aged ones play solemn parts—
Sire—guardian—uncle—king.
Affection is the salt of life,
Kindness a noble thing.

The old alone may comprehend
A sense in my decree;
But—if you find a fish on land,
Oh throw it in the sea.