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Old Age is Golden

How do I know my youth has been spent?

‘cause my “get up and go” has got up and went!

In spite of it all, I am able to grin

When I think where my “get up and go” has been.

Old age is golden; I have heard it said,

But sometimes I wonder, as I go to bed,

My ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,

My eyes on a table, ‘till I wake up.

Ere sleep dims my eyes, I say to myself,

Is there anything else I could lay on a shelf?

But I am happy to say, as I close the door,

My friends are the same as in days of yore.

When I was young my slippers were red,

I could kick up my heels right over my head;

And when I grew older, my slippers were blue,

But I could still dance the whole night through.

Now I am old, my slippers are black.

I walk to the corner and puff my way back.

The reason I know my youth has been spent,

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 places my “get up” has been;

Since I have retired from life’s competition

I busy myself with complete repetition.

I get up each morning – dust off my wits,

Pick up the paper and read the obits;

If my name is missing, I know I am not dead,

So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.

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