Methuselah:

[Administrator]

A STIC poem

“Methuselah ate what he found on his plate,
And never, as mortals do now,
Did he note the amount of the calorie count,
He ate it because it was chow.

He was not disturbed, as at dinner he sat,
Devouring a steak or a pie,
If it proved to be lacking in animal fat
Or a couple of vitamins shy.

He ate mungo beans and all kinds of greens,
Unworried by doubts or fears;
He never lost hope and he never would mope
And he lived over nine hundred years!.

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