He's A Cynical Old Bugger

Don't ask me I dont have the answers to what life is all about
On true stories that I hear of I will even cast a doubt
I'm a cynical old fellow too much so for my own good
I doubt stories of Maid Marian and her lover Robin Hood.

He's a cynical old bugger those who know me say of me
He does not believe in the existence of God, Heaven, Hell, Limbo or Purgatory
He has grown older but not wiser though the years have left him gray
You show him a flowering garden he will only see decay.

Just one more ageing Poetaster I don't have a claim to fame
Poets and Artists, Presidents and Monarchs to me they are all the same
I will not address as sir or madam the wealthiest person in the town
Why should they be treated different they too seek their own renown.

Everyone is disliked by someone everyone has got a foe
And you will have few to judge you if many of you do not know
Even in the best kept garden a few weeds amongst the vegies grow
Everybody has their failings though in some their failings do not show.

I love to be alone with Nature when the sunlight's on the trees
And the wildborn birds are singing in the freshening evening breeze
All of Nature's creatures are innocent even Nature's birds and beasts of prey
If they kill and eat things smaller Nature has made them that way.

He's a cynical old bugger that's what others of me say
Yet to judgements good or bad of the judgemental any heed I never pay
Everyday we are being lied to 'tis hard to separate the truth from lies
I only believe what I witness what I see with my own eyes.