#703 WHEN I’M SIXTY FOUR
GWhen I get older, losing my hair,
many years from nD7ow,
will you still be senting me a Valentine,
birthday greetings, bGottle of wine?
If I'd been out 'till quarter to three,
wG7ould you lock the doCor?
Will you still nEb7eed me,G will you still feE7ed me, wheA7n
D7I'm sixGty-four?
eHmm-mDmm-memmh.
Yeou'll be oldB7er, too.
eAaah, and if you saay the word,
CI could stD7ay with yoGu.
I could be handy, mending a fuse,
when your lights have gone.
You can knit a sweater by the fireside,
sunday mornings, go for a ride.
Doing the garden, digging the weeds,
who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm sixty four?
Every summer we can rent a cottage in the Isle of Wight if it's not to dear.
We shall scrimp and save.
Ah, grandchildren on your knee, Vera, Chuck, and Dave.
Send me a postcard, drop me a line
stating point of view.
Indicate precisely what you mean to say,
yours sincerely wasting away.
Give me your answer, fill in a form,
mine forever more.
Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm sixty four?