When I was young and my slippers were red,
I could kick my feet over my head.
Then I grew older and my slippers were blue,
But still I could dance the whole night through.
Now I am old and my slippers are black,
I walk to the corner and puff my way back.
The reason I know that my youth has been spent,
My get up and go has got up and went.
But I really don't mind, when I think with a grin,
Of all the grand places my get-up has been.
Since I have retired from Life's competition,
I find every day an exact repetition.
I get up each morn and dust off my wits,
Grab for the paper and read the obits.
If my name is missing, I know I'm not dead,
So I eat a huge breakfast and go back to bed.
 
 
Author unknown