There's an old lady, she lives on my floor   She broke her hip last spring, she don't get out much anymore   She's up with all the phone in hosts   Though she don't care if she know 'em   And it was for her that I wrote this poem.  I ain't as old as I like to think I am  Sometimes I still get that lively feeling  I wanna clean the house or run a mile  Or try to jump up and slap the ceiling  Throw the furniture across the room  Sing to myself a little out of tune  Turn out the lights and hang a moon out the window at the neighborhood below  I sent a postcard to Jeopardy! Last year  It'd be a good excuse to get down to L.A.  I won a freezerful of beef on a phone-in show  My freezer's full but give it time, y'know  When I'm on, my luck is out of sight  But I work hard and I do alright  So let's have a barbeque tonight at my house!  If I sat down and counted my blessings  I'd be cheating if I got past two or three  So If I seem a bit wierded out sometimes  Just smile and nod and humour me  And this is Louie the Mute, say hello to him  And Maxie makes shoes out of soda straws  And that in the corner is Carlos;  He's got the biggest collection of bullwhips I bet you've ever seen!  And who cares if our friendship is discreet  Or if it's mainly because of the meat  Cos I'm completely happy tonight  Well, pretty close.  (Hey Carlos, can I touch them?)