We’re going to obviate them all
’cause being old’s against the law;
we’ve legislation that now bans
all crones and coots and their bedpans.
We’re done with them and their bad backs, 
their politics and their earwax;
they had their shot, they’ve had their chance —
we’ve heard it all from smarty-pants.
Ah, yes, ‘it’s for your own damn good’ —
their fav’rite word, I’m sure, is ‘should’;
they’ve got advice for everyone
except themselves, then it’s no fun;
for years, we’ve heard them sneer and scold —
if they’re so smart, how’d they get old?
They’ve hogged the spotlight and they’ve run
the country they think they begun;
well, now it’s time to step aside —
someone inform ’em that they died.
It’s time that we got rid of them
with their sagacity and phlegm;
we’ve had enough of their mistakes,
their speeches and their bellyaches.
What they have done for world affairs
deserves a good kick down the stairs;
when they’re removed, then things will be
utopian, and hassle-free;
we’ll have no wars when they are gone,
we’ll all look great with swimsuits on;
we won’t hear ‘hmph, I told you so’ —
inheriting won’t be so slow.
The world is for adventurers,
not fuddy-duddies with dentures;
we’re extirpating the old guard —
they really shouldn’t take it hard;
and when time’s up for you and me,
we’ll reconsider this decree.