Dotard and Dotardess
There once lived an old dotard and old dotardess.
The dotard had lived five hundred years, the dotardess four hundred.
The dotard received a big pension, and gave it to the dotardess for expenses.
The dotard wore an under-waistcoat close to his body, the dotardess used to dye her hair.
The dotard took snuff, and went to take steam baths—the dotardess ate sweets, and went to the Russian opera.
Once the dotard went to the bath, steamed himself, steamed himself, and oversteamed himself, and died on the bench.
The dotardess went to the opera, called encore to the singer, shouted and shouted, and overshouted herself, and died in the gallery.
The old dotard and dotardess were buried.
There is nothing to grieve about: there will always be dotards and dotardesses.