There is nothing the matter with me. br I'm as healthy as I can be. br I have arthritis in both my knees br And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze. br br My pulse is weak, and my blood is thin br But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in. br Arch supports I have for my feet br Or I wouldn't be able to be on the street. br br Sleep is denied me night after night, br But every morning I find I'm all right. br My memory is failing, my head's in a spin br But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in. br br The moral is this, as my tale I unfold, br That for you and me who are growing old, br It's better to say 'I'm fine' with a grin br Than to let folks know the shape we are in. br br How do I know that my youth is all spent? br Well, my 'get up and go' just got up and went. br But I really don't mind when I think with a grin br Of all the grand places my 'get up' has been. br br Old age is golden, I've heard it said; br But sometimes I wonder as I get into bed br With my ears in the drawer my teeth in a cup, br My eyes on the table until I wake up. br br Ere sleep overtakes me, I say to myself, br 'Is there anything else I could lay on the shelf? ' br When I was young my slippers were red, br I could kick my heels over my head br br When I was older my slippers were blue, br But I still could dance the whole night through. br Now I am old, my slippers are black, br I walk to the store and puff my way back. br br I get up each morning and dust off my wits br And pick up the paper and read the obits. br If my name is still missing, I know I'm not dead br So I fix me some breakfast and go back to bed.