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I'm fine, I'm fine.
There's nothing whatever the matter with me,
I'm just as healthy as I 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.
My teeth eventually will have to come out
And I can't hear a word unless you shout.
I'm overweight and I can't get thin
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.
Arch supporters I have for my feet
Or I wouldn't be able to walk down the street.
Sleep is denied me every night
And every morning I'm really a sight.
My memory is bad and my head's a-spin
And I practically live on aspirin.
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.
The moral is, as this tale unfolds,
That for you and me who are growing old,
It's better to say, 'I'm fine,' with a grin
Than to let people know the shape we're in!
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1 comment:
Edward E. Croydon was the author of the original poem you have posted on your site. As he has passed away we would like to see that he gets recognition for the only poem he wrote. He wrote this poem in Nashville, TN in approximately 1978. My wife’s daughter, Melody, had to write a poem as a 2nd grade home work assignment. Mr. Croydon was at the home and recited three of four poems from memory. Melody asked if he had written them and he said no. This must have caused him to try and write one because in a few days he presented the following typewritten poem to my wife. She placed a copy on the wall of the Doctor’s office where she worked and people would come in an read it and ask for copies. My wife just recently came across the original in her files.
I'm Fine - How are you?
There's nothing the matter with me,
I'm just as healthy as can be,
I have arthritis in both knees,
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, my blood is thin,
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.
All my teeth have had to come out,
And my diet I hate to think about.
I'm overweight and I can't get thin,
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.
And arch supports I need for my feet.
Or I wouldn't be able to go out in the street.
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I'm all right.
My memory's failing, my head's in a spin.
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 go to bed.
With my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
And my glasses on a shelf, until I get up.
And when sleep dims my eyes, I say to myself,
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?
The reason I know my Youth has been spent,
Is my get-up-and-go has got-up-and-went!
But really I don't mind, when I think with a grin,
Of all the places my get-up has been.
I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the obits.
If my name is missing, I'm therefore not dead,
So I eat a good breakfast and jump back into bed.
The moral of this as the tale unfolds,
Is that for you and me, who are growing old.
It is better to say "I'm fine" with a grin,
Than to let people know the shape we are in.
Author is Edward E. Croydon.
May be used with permission when author is given recognition.
Please email LadyCarolynKing@gmail.com
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