I am still having a good clear out, sorting this, removing that, and destroying the rest. Most of my Women's Institute papers have either been moved elsewhere or destroyed. Today, I came across this oldie which circled round the WI for many years.
I’M FINE THANKS
There is nothing the matter with me,
I am as healthy as can be.
I have arthritis in both my knees
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, and my blood is thin
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m 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 eyes on the table until I wake up.
Is there anything else I could lay on the shelf?
How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well, my get up and go has got up and went.
But I don’t really mind when I think with a grin
Of all the grand places my ‘getup’ has been.
I get up in the morning, and dust off my wits.
Then 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 go back to bed.
The moral is this, as this tale I unfold,
That for you and me who are now growing old
T’is better to say “I’m fine” with a grin
Than to let them all know the real shape you’re in.