Whoever said this was our golden years,
They can take a flying leap.
The only good thing that I've found,
Is I can nod right off to sleep.
It must have been some young punk,
He was maybe forty-five;
Whose daddy died and left him rich
He thinks it's great to be alive.
My legs that used to run so fast,
Oh, how they could jump so high;
Now can manage a good fast walk
And to jump, I would never try.
I used to leap upon my horse
And dismount at a rapid pace.
Now I know if I tried that stunt,
I'd land right on my face.
There was a time I could throw so hard,
Boy, could I let her fly.
But, now I toss it under-hand
Cause over-hand makes me cry.
I once was able to rope and ride,
Bulldogging steers was a passion to me.
But, now I feel awfully lucky,
Just to be able to bend my knee.
These aches and pains that I have;
I can't let um get me down.
Although every time I make a move,
My joints make some funny sound.
Some nights it's hard to get some rest,
You wouldn't think that it would be.
But, then every few hours,
I'm a getting up to pee.
My pants seem a little tight
The size is miss-marked, it does appear.
And all the mirrors are all out of whack,
When I'm a looking at my rear.
Oh, yes these are our golden years.
We should be left without a care,
But, instead we say, "SPEAK UP BOY"
You know I can barely hear.