There’s nothing whatever the matter with me

Arthritis I have in both of 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

A terrible pain I have in my back

My hearing is poor and my eye sight is dim

I’m practically living on aspirin

My dentures they cut, I’m restless at night

In the morning oh boy I’m a frightful sight.

My memory is failing, my heads in a spin

But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in

Now the moral of this, as this tale unfolds

That for you and me who are growing old

It’s better to say “I’m fine” with a grin

Then to tell what a terrible shape I’m in.