When I'm Sixty-Four (Lennon/McCartney)


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.

Ooo...
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,
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.
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 an answer, fill in the form,
mine for evermore.
Will you still need me,
will you still feed me,
when I'm sixty-four.