I took the liberty of editing the lyrics to"When I'm Sixty-Four" for my own purposes. I know, blasphemy - but, then again - I am incorrigible. I was going to highlight the changes, but decided that if you don't know the original lyrics by heart - you should be executed.
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 feel some hate,
Will you still need me and will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-eight.
You'll be older too, 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, I can hardly wait
Will you still need me and will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-eight
Every summer we can rent a cottage on Lake Sunapee, if it's not too dear.
We shall scrimp and worry,
grand-pets around our feet,
Cooper, Jack and Murray.
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,
I need to know my fate,
Will you still need me and will you still feed me,
When I'm sixty-eight.
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