He picked up his paper without much hope,

Being a loner can cause one to mope.

Then a special column caught his eye,

He might be a devil and just have a try.

Taking stock of himself what did he see.

He began to perk up, and felt quite free.

What kind of dolly would he choose,

She would be lucky, he could not lose.

He pitied the plight of her lonely heart,

Having hung around, like a very spare part.

He was a gift, if she did but know it,

Still when they met he would not show it.

It won't do to rush, or make her blush,

He never went in for all that mush.

Maybe he'd make her his trouble and strife,

For Two's Company offers a whole new life.

Through his body spread a rosy glow,

If he lied about age, would she know.

He had his own hair, and he wasn't weighty,

Did it really matter that he was eighty.

Use it or lose it, that's what they say,

Well he did his best to keep it OK.

Get out the pen, no time to delay,

Dash off to the post, so soon to make hay. By Mrs Joan Foster

Jubilee House

Moor Lane, Bolton?

Previous news story

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.