MY GET UP AND GO

How do I know my youth is all spent?
Well, my get up and go has got up and went.
But in spite of it all, I am able to give
When I recall where my get up has been.

Old age is golden, so I've heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder when I get out of bed.
With my ear in the drawer, my teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table, until I wake up.

Ere sleep dims my eyes, I say to myself
Is there anything else I should lay on the shelves?
And I'm happy to say, as I close the door,
My friends are the same, perhaps even more.

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 I could still dance the whole night through.

But now I am old, my slippers are black.
I walk to the store and puff my way back.
The reason I know my youth is all 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 retired from life's competition,
I busy myself with complete repetition.
I get up each morning, dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and read the "O'bits."
If my name is missing, I know I'm not dead.
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.

-- Written and Published by Homer A. Shiveley in 1939
or Written by a Sister Danean of Milwaukee, Wisconsin