There is nothing the matter with me,
I'm as 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 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 I'm alright.
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 getting old,
It's better to say " I'm fine " with a grin,
Than to let folks know the shape we are in.

How do I know that 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 ' 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,
'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 right over my head,
When I was older my slippers were blue,
But I still could dance the whole night through,
Now I an 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,
And pick up the paper to read the ' Obits ',
If my name is still missing I know I'm not dead ;
And so I have breakfast and - go back to bed.