Meet Bob MacAdoo, age one twenty-two, the world’s oldest man.
For breakfast he eats pickled beets directly out of the can.
When asked about his age he says, “I’m halfway to two forty-four,
Still going along, singing a song, better than I was before."
He’s great at singing rap tunes and dancing the boogaloo
With his wife a hundred years younger, a beauty who’s twenty-two.
Women have always pleased him; he has a tireless appetite;
Skinny or fatter; it doesn’t matter, even those with cellulite.
Bob lives in Minnesota where winters can make you cry;
The lakes are still frozen there until the Fourth of July.
He flew to Sarasota once to breathe some warmer air;
He liked the sand but couldn’t stand all the old folks there
Bob likes to travel around the world and find an exotic place.
Last month he went to Hawaii bent on winning a marathon race.
Two youngsters sped to the front ahead of the pack by far.
Bob put it in gear, and pulled into the clear, puffing a fat cigar.
He doesn’t go to doctors which causes his wife some alarm,
‘Course, the ones he used to visit have long since bought the farm.
He hired himself a lawyer once and acquired a will at the time:
“Being of sound mind and body, I spent every single dime.”
Bob is quite optimistic that he’ll continue to thrive
In his own way; three vodkas a day are keeping him alive.
He downs two in a row and begins to glow at about a quarter past five
Then he sips on a third, as his eyes get blurred, till dinner guests arrive.
Bob doesn’t hesitate to relate his secret for a long life.
“Find a young miss, lay on a kiss, and ask her to be your wife."
“But aren’t you afraid of dying? Your advice is surely unwise.”
With twinkles in both eyes, Bob replies, “Hey, if she dies, she dies.”