There's nothing the matter with me,
I'm healthy as I can be.
I
have arthritis in both my knees
And when I talk I talk with a wheeze.
My
pulse is weak and my blood is thin,
But I'm awfully well for the state I'm
in.
Arch supports I have for my feet,
Or I wouldn't be able to be on the
street,
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find
I'm all right.
My memory is failing, my head's in a spin
But I'm awfully
well for the shape I'm in.
The moral is this as my tale I unfold -
That for you and me who
are growing old,
It's better to say "I'm fine" with a grin,
Than to let
folk know the shape we are in.
How do I know my youth is all spent?
Well,
my "get up and go" has got up and went.
But I really don't mind when I think with a grin,
Of all the
grand places my "get up" has bin.
Old age is golden, I've heard it
said,
But, sometimes I wonder as I get into bed,
With my ears in the
drawer, my teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up.
'Ere
sleep overtakes me, I say to myself,
"Is there anything else I could lay on
the shelf?"
When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick my heels over
my head.
When I was older my slippers were blue,
But still I could dance
the whole night through.
Now I am old my slippers are black,
I walk to
the store and puff my way back.
I get up each morning and dust off my wits
And pick up the paper
and read the "obits."
If my name is still missing I know I'm not dead,
So
I have a good breakfast and go back to bed.
Return to the Summer 1998 Features page
return to Home page and main index
page last updated 6 JULY 1998