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 mem’ry 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 for 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!

                 But I really don’t mind when I think, with a grin,                  Of all the grand places my “Get Up” has been.                  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, I could kick my heels right 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.