I'm going to talk you through the seven ages,
As you know it can be many pages,
But I'm going to shorten it just to one,
And then my work here will be done.
First of course is the new born child,
As you'd imagine, tender and mild,
Always smiling but crying also,
And being sick all over your torso.
Next is the first year child,
Running around on the playground wild,
Pushing and shoving in a queue,
And always saying "miss I need the look"!
Now the child is in her teens,
She don't hold back to say what she means,
Loving boys and holding hands,
Watching T.V and listening to bands.
Now that she's at college,
She's brushing up on her knowledge,
Looking forward to the day,
When she earns her first weeks pay.
Now she has reached her big day,
Her single days are washed away,
In a carriage lit up bright,
There stands a bride dressed in white.
Now that she is getting old,
Her personality is turning cold,
Reading books in the dark,
Looking down on stupid lark.
Now she's lying in her bed,
Listening to memories inside her head,
While all her family cry and mourn,
She is waiting to be reborn.
