GETTING OLD




Getting old, would be fun if my bones didn’t ache
And my teeth didn’t slip, when I chew on that steak

Getting old could be fun if my eyes didn’t cry
When I think of the loved ones, who’ve passed me by

The ailments are collected one by one
The back goes, the knees go, the rear & the tum

The tablets we swallow, the concoctions we take
But we mustn’t wallow, & we mustn’t quake

Our memory slips, & we just can’t remember
The things we were going to say

And then we’ll repeat over & over
The same thing, day after day

It could be fun getting old, if our body was strong,
as it was when we were young

Now our kids have grown, & we’ve time to do
the things that never got done

You want to go back, & try this & that,
I tried & fell flat on my face

And then they say, you’re to old to do that,
& stick you once more in your place

Well my spirit is strong, though my body is not
And I feel it’s too cold, when it’s probably hot

So I’ll sit in my chair, as the world passes me by
And I’ll try not to think, & I’ll try not to cry

I get such a shock, every time I see
Myself in the mirror, my God is that me

But remember it’s only my body that’s old
The rest of me’s fine, I’m as good as gold


By Jan Ward © 1999