Sexagenarian in Disguise

My dear Uncle Roy,
Long ago, as a boy
I believed all the stories you told
You won the great war
And Aunt Ellen and more
Through your actions both gallant and bold.

Your Italy days
Were a bit of a haze
But you told of your own derring-do.
You leapt roof to roof
And I asked for no proof
For you said it and so it was true.

That time on the plane
Over England or Spain
With no wings--just your arms sticking out.
The papers were tossed
And the photos were lost
But there wasn't a flicker of doubt.

But dear Uncle Roy
You are being too coy
And your latest tall tale is too much.
I'm not at all proud
And I'm asking out loud
Is the master now losing his touch?

And must he deceive?
Must I cease to believe?
Should I tell him enough is enough?
I know it's a lie!
Uncle Roy, I don't buy
All this octogenarian stuff.

I heard someone say
You are 80 today,
But salesman, that story won't sell.
You wanted a chance
Just to party and dance
And was that one the best you could tell?

I'm staying away
From your party today.
You can tango and foxtrot and waltz.
Wine, women and song,
I will not go along
When the story's so patently false.