A birthday reminded me of the number rhymes used in Bingo (Lotto, or Housey-Housey in its less commercialized form). I had to resort to www.bingo-uk.co.uk to refresh ancient memories of Christmases past.
In Bingo-speak, I’m clickety-click,
All the sixes, sixty-six.
One past my old age pension, and
Four score past pick and mix.
It seems like only yesterday
I’d reached the key of the door.
After two little ducks, a duck and a flea,
The question was: did you score?
By twenty-nine I’m doing fine;
But after flirty thirty,
I get up and run at thirty-one
’Cos her boyfriend’s getting shirty. . .
Real life begins at forty,
And after time for fun
Comes Winnie the Pooh (and Tigger, too) –
Er, honey, anyone?
I rise and shine at forty-nine,
Then, in scarcely the blink of an eye,
I’m hurtling down the Brighton line.
My word, how time does fly!
Blind sixty next, then baker’s bun,
And then it’s tickety-boo.
But now I’m clickety-click; and that
Just now, will have to do.
For who knows what numbers might yet be called?
Is this Bingo game benign?
If I strive and strive at staying alive,
Will the top of the house be mine?