ETERNAL YOUTH.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 263, 5 November 1932, Page 2 (Supplement)

ETERNAL YOUTH.

Professor Voronoff, tho monkey gland expert, declares that it will soon be Eossible for men to retain all their iculties till the age of 140. He believes that every civilised land will soon have monkey parks to supply the great demand for glands. Voronoff is now devoting himself to cancer research. Backward, turn backward, oh, Time, in your flight, - T Lead me to Voronoff this very night! Push back my eighties, and give me a gland, Simian and apish, so that I may stand Fair on the threshold of lusty young life, Tho' whitish of whisker, equipped for the Strife, Prancing and playful, bold, boyish, and bright, Make me a lad again each day and night I Ancestor hanging by tall from the tree, Hand mo a gladsome gland—so-1 may see Youth as I savoured It decades ago, Casting glad eyes at «iy Susie—her beau; Susie to-morrow will be eighty-three, Dearest orangoutang, listen to me, Give her a monkey gland, so She may share Rejuvenescence—if there's any to spare. Nonagenarians, toothless and bald, Hope springs eternal, so be not appalled, Mars may be marshalling men any day; Then we shall see you all marching away, Lightsome of step, with a glint in the eye, Ready, aye ready! to do or to die; Led by the trumpets, the bugles, the band, Steady old youngsters—The Boys of the Gland! Wrinkles shall vanish, and each M.L.C. Will be younger than ever at age ninetythree; Bradman will knock up a century or more (If he's glanded) and reaches the age of four score; While judges will beat old Methuselah bad, When VoronofF makes every bencher a lad ;! Of course, civil servants may not serve the State, j Unless each can swear hes one hundred and eight. On Snndays the ape-house (assisted by bands) Will be swarming with old 'uns selecting their glands, And surgeons who shared In the recent keen cuts Will be carving like tigers in suitable huts; Giving new glands for old, and lighting the eye Of the rheumy old patriarchs who never say die; The sexton, poor fellow, I hasten to tell, Will be robbed of his old job of ringing the bell. If dear Doctor Voronoff actually thought he Might still be alive at one hundred and forty, I wonder if he'd be a little bit funky Of assuming a gland from a cheeky young monkey I fancy, perhaps, the dear chap might be tired Of the synthetic years he'd so oddly acquired, And be willing enough to leave Belgrade for Heaven At a moderate age—say one hundred and seyea* s . s' 1 " . . --C.JSi «