BOB'S MUSIC PLAYER

WHEN I'M 64

By: The Beatles

When I grow 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 'til quarter to three,
would you lock the door?
Will you still need me,
will you still feed me,
when I'm 64?

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 64.

Every summer we can rent a cottage
in the Isle of Wright,
if it's not too dear.
We shall scrimp and save.
Grandchildren on your knee;
Vera, Chuck, and Dave.

Send me a postcard, drop me a line.
Indicate precisly what you mean to say.
Yours sincerly, 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 64?