How do I know my youth is all spent?
My get up and go has got up and went
but in spite of it all I´m able to grin
and think of the places my get up has been.
Old age is golden so I´ve heard said
but sometimes I wonder as I crawl into bed
with my ears in a drawer,my teeth in a cup
my eyes on the table until I wake up.
As sleep dims my vision I say to myself:
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
But though nations are warring and business is vexed
I´ll stick around to see what happens next.
When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick up my heels right over my head.
When I was older my slippers were blue
but still I could dance the whole night thru.
Now I am older my slippers are black,
I huff to the store and I puff my way back.
But never you laugh,I don´t mind at all,
I´d rather be huffing than not puff at all.
I get up each morning and dust off my wits
open the paper and read the obits
if I´m not there I know I´m not dead
so I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.