| F / C / | G7 / C / | F / C A | Dm7 / G7 C |
| C / F G | / / C / | F / C A | Am7 D7 / G |
| C / G G7 | / / C / | F / C A7 | Dm7 / G7 C |How do I know my youth is all spent?
When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick up my heels right over my head.
When I was older my slippers were blue,
but I could still dance the whole night through.
Now I am older my slippers are black.
I huff to the store and I puff my way back.
But never you laugh, I don't mind at all,
I'd rather be huffing than not puff at all.
Old age is golden so I've heard said,
but sometimes I wonder as I crawl into bed
with my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup,
my eyes on the table until I wake up.
As sleep dims my vision I say to myself,
"Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?"
Still one thing more before I snore,
my friends are the same perhaps a little bit more.
I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
open the paper and read the obits.
If my name isn't there, I know I'm not dead
so I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.