This reminds me of this poem:
There's nothing the matter with me. I'm as healthy as can be, I have Arthritis in 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 streets.
Sleep is denied me night by night, But every morning i feel i'm alright.
My memory is failing, my head is 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, that to let folk know of the shape i'm in.
Old age is golden i've heard it said, But sometimes I wonder as i get into bed,
My ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup, my eyes on the table until i wake up.
E'er sleep overtakes me i say to myself,
Is there anything left I could lay on the shelf.
When I was young my slippers were red, 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 my slippers are black, I walk to the store and puff myself back.
How do I know the 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 'get up has been.
I get up each morning and dust of 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!!!!