“In all, Methuselah lived for nine hundred and sixty-nine years. Then he died” (Genesis 5:27).
Methuselah ate what he found on his plate, And never, as people do now,
Did he note the amount of calorie count;
He ate it because it was chow.
He wasn’t disturbed as at dinner he sat, Devouring a roast or a pie,
To think it was lacking in granular fat
Or a couple of vitamins shy.
He cheerfully chewed each species of food, Unmindful of troubles or fears,
Lest his health might be hurt
By some fancy desert;
And he lived over 900 years.
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