Keep young
When I was young my slippers were red
I could kick my heels right over my head
When I was older my slippers were blue
but still I could dance the whole night through
Now I am old my slippers are black
I walk to the store and puff my way back
I get up in the morning and dust off my wits
and pick up the paper and read the obits
If my name is still missing I know that I'm not dead
So I have a good breakfast and go back to bed
The moral is this as my tale I unfold
That for you and me who are growing old
Its better to say I am fine with a grin
Than to let people know the real shape you're in