There is nothing the matter with me,
Im as healthy as can be,
I have arthritis in both knees,
And when I talk - I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, and my blood is thin,
But - Im awfully well for the shape I'm in.
Arch supports I have for my feet,
Or I wouldn't be able to be out on the street,
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find Im alright.
My memory is failing, my heads in a spin,
But - Im awfully well for the shape Im in.
How do I know that my youth is spent?
Well, my 'get up and go' has got up and went.
But I really dont mind when I think with a grin,
Of all the grand places my 'got 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 a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
My specs on a table, until I get up.
When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick my heels right over my head,
When I got older my slippers were blue,
But still I could dance the whole night through.
But now that I'm old my slippers are black,
I walk to the shop and puff my way back,
I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the orbits,
If my name is still missing I know I'm not dead,
And so I have my breakfast and go back to bed.
