Flo and Friends by Jenny Campbell for June 11, 2023

His get-up-and-go hasn’t got-up-and-went. It has got-up-and-GONE. (A type of grammatical error becoming so common it may be a sign of English changing.)

How do I know my youth is all spent?

My get up and go has got up and went

But in spite of it all I’m able to grin

And think of the places my get up has been

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?

But though nations are warring and business is vexed

I’ll stick around to see what happens next

How do I know…

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 still I could dance the whole night thru

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

How do I know…

I get up each morning and dust off my wits

Open the paper and read the obits

If I’m not there I know I’m not dead

So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed

(the late, great Pete Seeger)

My get-up-and-go left a long time ago.

My get up and go has not gotten up and gone, it is merely slowing down and enjoying and appreciating what I have and thankfor what I don’t have (ailments, day to day turmoil, etc.)

I’m sure he’d prefer to stay out of the hen house.