There's nothing whatever the matter with me

I'm just as healthy as I can be -

I have arthritis in both my knees,

And when I talk I speak with a wheeze.

My pulse is weak and my blood is thin;

But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

I think my liver is out of whack

And I have a terrible pain in my back.

My hearing's poor and my sight is dim.

Most everything seems to be out of trim.

The way I stagger sure is a crime,

I'm likely to fall most any time,

But, all things considered, I'm feeling fine.

I have arch supports for both my feet

Or I wouldn't be able to walk down the street.

My complexion's bad due to dry skin,

But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

Dentures drive me crazy: I'm restless at night,

And in the morning I sure am a sight.

Memory's failing; head's in a spin,

But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

So the moral is, as this tale I unfold

That for you and me who are growing old,

It's better to say, "I'm fine," with a grin