When I get old, and losing my many years from now, Will you still be sending me a Valentine,birthday greetings, 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?
You'll be older, too.Aaah, and if you say the word, I could stay with you.
I could be handy, a fuse, when your lights have gone. You can knit a sweater 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 when I'm sixty four?
Every summer we can rent a cottage in the Isle of if it's not too dear. We shall scrimp and save. Ah, grandchildren on your knee, Vera, Chuck, and Dave.
Send me a postcard, me a line stating 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 me, when I'm sixty four?