There’s nothing the matter with me,   Â
I’m just as healthy as can be,
I have arthritis in both knees,
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, my blood is thin,
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
All my teeth have had to come out,
And my diet I hate to think about.
I’m overweight and I can’t get thin,
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
And arch supports I need for my feet.
Or I wouldn’t be able to go out in the street.
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I’m all right.
My memory’s failing, my head’s in a spin.
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.
Old age is golden I’ve heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder, as I go to bed.
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
And my glasses on a shelf, until I get up.
And when sleep dims my eyes, I say to myself,
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
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The reason I know my Youth has been spent,
Is my get-up-and-go has got-up-and-went!
But really I don’t mind, when I think with a grin,
Of all the places my get-up has been.
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I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the obits.
If my name is missing, I’m therefore not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and jump back into bed.
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The moral of this as the tale unfolds,
Is that for you and me, who are growing old.   Â
It is better to say "I’m fine" with a grin,
Than to let people know the shape we are in.