(The song Brian Wilson would surely have written if he wrote it today – well, before he died!)

 

Wouldn’t it be nice if I were younger

Then I’d have much longer left to live

I’d choose to still be twenty,

Oh yes indeed, just what I wouldn’t give.

 

To have a waist where I could wear my breeches

I’d gladly sacrifice my riches

Oh wouldn’t it be nice?

 

Wouldn’t it be nice to put my socks on

Without I need to sit down on the bed

And wouldn’t it be nice to cut my toenails

And not to need bolt croppers from the shed

 

Life would then be so much better

If my underpants weren’t always wetter

Oh wouldn’t it be nice?

 

Oh wouldn’t it be nice if I weren’t balder

With hair instead that sprouted from my nose

To be without this frozen shoulder

And swollen ankles that I wrap in hose

 

When fish and chips for tea entices

To find that it still cost 60’s prices

Oh wouldn’t it be nice?

 

What would I give if I could just be cuter

Better looking and not be so lame

To get around without this scooter

Or shuffle on my zimmer frame

 

I would love to go again upstairs

And still remember why I’d gone there

Oh wouldn’t it be nice?

 

Wouldn’t it be nice to down a curry

And not to need two Rennies at bed time

To dance the night away at parties

And not to fall asleep by half past nine

 

I would gladly swop my old age pension

For a prick that stood to attention

Oh wouldn’t it be nice?