When I'm eighty four

There’s an old bloke in my mirror
Staring back at me.
He mimics everything I do
he’s got me to a ‘T’.

I know I look much younger,
I see this in my head.
But when I pass a mirror,
Well it’s just like what I’ve said.

Of course I’ve tried all sorts of tricks
But he remains nonplussed.
As for breaking every mirror
well I really can’t be fussed,

So I told him quite politely
whilst showing him the door.
‘run along now please old chap
Come back when I’m eighty four.'