May I never be so old
That I can’t lie on a floor
Or become so set in my ways
That thinking makes me sore!

May I not be so dismayed
By what I can’t do anymore
And be mindful of what I can do
That I could not do before

May I laugh at the bitter cold
Even when it seems a chore
Appreciate the green of Spring
Isn’t that what Winter’s for?

May I season my old age
With a some pepper and some sage
And hope my conversation
Is not a dreadful bore