A Hint Of Nostalgia
A swig of ale for the good old boys,
Who play non-stop with old men’s toys,
Stay up all night not to read or write,
But to woo the girls or scare up a fight.
The good old boys of high school days,
Who saw that each day ended their way,
Squeezing out every single ounce of fun,
From twelve to three and seven to one.
The good old days with the good old boys,
I fondly recall every moment of joy
Of drunken haze and stone faced cheer
Of alcohol inspired wit, chants and jeers.
Now and then, gather the good old boys,
To rekindle the days of old with ploys,
Of grandiose parties and solemn reunions,
To gather again and resist separation.
For the good old boys and the good old days,
Will fade under the weight of our day to day,
And our friendship’s strength relies solely upon,
Our will to keep them close and to hold on.