The days of youth are fun,

As we are always in the run,

Once we are up on a tree,

We sing aloud in a total free.

 

The days of adulthood are little less fun,

As  we have to move about in a slower run,

Once we are in the mid tree,

 We deliberate on things not totally free.

 

The days of mid age are least fun,

As we have to check out our run,

Once  we are on the lower tree,

 We  work on  the responsibilities almost unfree.

 

The days of old age are never a fun,

As we  have to stop our run,

Once we are beneath the tree,

 We count the days when we would be set free.