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Tuesday 15 September 2020

I'm Fine Thank You

 There is nothing the matter with me,

I'm as healthy as I can be.

I have arthritis in both my knees 

And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.

Sleep is denied me night after night,

But every morning I find I'm alright.

My memory is failing, my head's in a spin,

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


How do I know my youth is all spent?

Well, my "get up and go" has got up and went.

Bit I really don't mind when I think with a grin,

Of all the grand places my "get up has bin.

"Old age is golden" I've heard it said,

But sometimes I wonder as I get into bed,

With my ears in the drawer, my teeth in a cup,

My eyes on the table until I wake 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 my heels 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 and read the "Obits".

If my name is still missing I know I'm not dead.

So I have a good breakfast . . . . and face what's ahead.


                                                    from a teatowel . . . .


1 comment:

  1. This is fabulous, what a wonderful poem Christine. Ah! Yes Old age indeed!
    Faith x

    ReplyDelete

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