I don't know what is wrong with me
I can't get up and go.
I've waited now so long for this
And now I'm free I know.
To visit all those places
That I've come to love so much
Which since this pesky virus
Have been totally out of touch.
Perhaps my ancient body
Has finally reached that stage
Where some things are impossible
Simply because of age.
But I have this little press-gang
That urge me to press on.
So maybe there is just a chance
That I shortly may be gone. (One way or another.)