When I’m 64


When I get older losing my hair,
Many years from now,
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings bottle of wine?

If I’d been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door,
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I’m sixty-four?

oo oo oo oo oo oo oo oooo
You’ll be older too, (ah ah ah ah ah)
And if you say the word,
I could stay with you.

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 too drear
We shall scrimp and save
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 for evermore
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When I’m sixty-four?

Whoo!

Hearing the song this morning reminded me that it was written when the Beatles were so young that 64 seemed like forever away, and that 64 year olds must be really OLD.

Poor Paul, he was in his mid 50’s when Linda died from cancer. It must have seemed that the song was not going to offer him time with her and ‘grandchildren on the knee’ at 64.

He did marry again, yet when Paul was 64 his split from Heather Mills had become apparent, even though it took some time to work out a divorce settlement, it was over.

I wonder just what I’ve said in my youth that’s coming back to bite me?

 

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