I am a member of a gym
I do aerobics to keep slim
Eat fatty fish and little beef
Tomatoes and a lettuce leaf

I follow all the diet tips
Puddings rarely pass my lips
Though gin and tonic is divine
I try to stick to dry white wine

Moisturise my skin, condition my hair
I take the very best of care
Life’s risks, I always gauge
That I might reach a ripe old age

I wonder though, if all this pain
Is, perhaps, a bit in vain
For while I keep my urges reined
There is one who’s less restrained

Who vaguely remembers exercise
But my word, how the time flies
Since last, sport his life did rule
I do believe he was at school

No memberships of a gym or club
Just right arm raises down the pub
These diets are not all they seem
He gets all he needs from a tub of ice cream

A sticky bun and a pint of ale
To prepare him for a ‘healthy’ sail
One sport on which he’s very keen
But it hardly keeps him lithe and lean

Well, his yardarm, it is very low
The sun has scarce begun to glow
When he takes his first wee sip
And settles back for a midday kip

As he wakens, with a little snort
The boat’s just pulling into port
The crew, relieved, say three cheers
And crack open a few more beers

Before they venture off ashore
To get some food and drink some more
And stumble drunkenly back on board
To put to bed this great sea lord

He did once buy himself a bike
With just two wheels, not a trike
But firing the engine by turning the key
Only burned one calorie

If talking, for hours on end
Did thousands of kilojoules expend
The weight that simply fell from Danny
Would, you’d find, be quite uncanny

At conversation he excels
A fountain of knowledge with no dry wells
A raconteur, a reciting poet
He’s erudite, and likes to show it

There’s other things at which he’s good
He turns a fine bit of wood
Now what else is good about Danny?
Oh yes, of course, it’s simply Annie!

No he’s hardly a picture of sporting prowess
But he’s got this far, nevertheless
I ask you, fitness, what’s the use?
If 70 years of wanton abuse

Can leave you in the prime of life
Having fun with little strife
So hang the regime, bring on the booze
It’s the Danny Hollis diet I choose

Let’s raise a glass of alcohol
As Danny’s praises we extol
Chin, chin, old chap, we all say cheers
To the next hard-living seventy years!

Joanne Ross - 29th April 2006