Grandad...

My Grandfather often read this to me when he was in hospital. I've no idea who wrote it or where he got it from but it's one of the poems that has stayed with me since he first read it to me...

There is nothing the matter with me,
I'm as healthy as I can be,
I have arthritis in both knees,
And when I talk - I talk with a wheeze,
My pulse is weak and my blood is thin,
But I'm very well for the shape I'm in,
Arch supports I have for my feet,
Or I wouldn't be able to be out on the street,
Sleep is denied me night after night,
My memory us failing my heads in a spin,...
But I'm awfully well for the shape I am in.

 

The moral to this as I take my unfold,
That for you and for me who are now getting old,
It's better to say I'm fine with a grin,
Than to let folks know the shape we are in.
Old age is golden I've heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder as I get into bed,
With my ears in a drawer my teeth in a cup,
My specs on the table until I get 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 up my heels right over my head,
When I was 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 shop and puff my way back,
I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
And pick up the paper to read the obits,
If my name is still missing I know I'm not dead,
And so I have my breakfast and go back to bed...