There's nothing the matter with me, 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?
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.
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.
The moral of this as the tale unfolds, Is that for you and me, who are growing old.
It is better to say, "I'm fine" with a grin, Than to let people know the shape we are in.
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