I’m Alright.

I Guess I am Fine.

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 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 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.
But1 really don’t mind when I think with a grin, of all the grand places my getup 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 and 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.