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 is gone and my eyes are dim,
Most everything seems to be out of trim
I'm likely to fall at any time,
But, all things considered, I feel fine.
Arch supports for both my feet
Or I wouldn't be able to walk down the street,
My fingers are swollen, stiff at the joints
My nails are impossible to keep in points.
Complexion is bad, due to dry skin,
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.
My dentures are out,
I'm restless at night.
In the morning, I'm a frightful sight.
Memory's failing, heads in a spin,
I'm practically living on aspirin
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in."
Now the moral is, as this tale unfolds
That you and me who are getting old,
It's better to say, I'm fine with a grin
Than to tell everybody of the shape we're in!
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