|Every ten years, as summertime nears,|
An announcement arrives in the mail,
A reunion is planned; it sure will be grand;
So make plans to attend without fail.
I'll never forget, the first time we met;
We all tried real hard to impress.
We drove fancy cars, we smoked big cigars,
And we wore our most elegant dress.
It was quite an affair; the whole class was there.
It was held at a fancy hotel.
We wined, and we dined, and we acted refined,
And everyone thought it was swell.
The men all conversed, about who had been first
To achieve their great fortune and fame.
Meanwhile, their spouses described their fine houses
And how beautiful their children became.
The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at two-forty-six.
The jocks who were there, had all lost their hair,
The cheerleaders no longer did kicks.
But no one had heard, about the class nerd
Who'd programmed the flight to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who's always been plain;
Who married a shipping tycoon.
The boy we'd decreed, "most apt to succeed"
Was serving ten years in the pen,
While the one voted "least", he now was a priest;
Just shows that we're wrong now and then.
They awarded a prize, to one of the guys
Who seemed to have aged the least.
Another was given, to he that had driven
The farthest to attend the feast.
They took a class picture, a curious mixture
Of beehives, crew cuts and wide ties.
And tall, short or skinny, the style was mini;
You never saw so many thighs.
At the next get-together, nobody cared whether
They impressed their classmates or not.
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal,
'cause this time we had all gone to pot.
It was held out-of-doors, right along the lake shore,
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw and beans.
Then most of us laid, around in the shade,
In our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.
By our fortieth year, it's abundantly clear,
That we're definitely over the hill.
And those who weren't dead had to crawl out of bed,
And get home just in time for their pill.
And now I can't wait; they've just set the date;
Our sixtieth is coming, I'm told.
It should be a ball, and they've rented a hall
At the "Shady Rest Home" for the old.
Repairs have been made, on my old hearing aid;
My pacemaker's turned up on high.
My walker's been oiled, my teeth have been boiled
And I've bought a new wig and glass eye.
I'm feeling quite hearty, I'm ready to party
I'll dance until dawn's early light.
We'll have lots of fun, and I hope at least one
Other person will make it that night.
This joke is from the collection at www.usaone.net/jokenet