Too Old For Saturday Night
By John McMenamin
Saturday night, Saturday night
I’m out on the town, but It don’t feel right
I used to love the cosy pub
But they tore it down, built a big night club.
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I feel my age, I feel my age
A DJ cavorts on a noise filled stage
Everybody looks so young
Has my race been run? My song been sung?
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Feel like a stranger sitting here
And you don’t get a glass when you buy a beer
Have I passed in to middle age?
The book of life goes on, you can’t turn back the page.
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Can I not go back? Can I not go back?
Regain my youth, join in the craic
Turn hack the clock to another day
I don’t feel old, I’m not a grey.
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I see my face, I see my face
In the glass behind the bar
The wrinkled face, the greying hair
A barren, burnt out star.
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I never thought , when I was young
When I was on the bottom rung
The sands of time, ran oh so slow
My youth has gone, where did it go?
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I don’t feel happy, sitting here
Morbid thoughts, imported beer
Also-pops are not my thing
But the clock ticks on, the church bellstring.
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I walk across the crowded floor
Nod at the bouncer on the door
This is not for me, I should be banned
A stranger, in a foreign land.
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Saturday night, Saturday night
A carry out, I’m feeling tight
Sing along with country stars
Too old, too old, for weekend bars
Isn’t that sad?
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