Friday, June 5, 2015

#235 When I'm Sixty-four

Could those be the beginning of swimmer's arms?

Yesterday was my birthday and although I share it with my daughter the "mom" factor kicked in with the mindset that my kids always come first--despite their adult status. June 4th was Margaret's day, however, it doesn't really matter when we celebrate because according to my sage grandmother, "Birthdays last a whole month".

The day after is a fine time to acknowledge my turning the ripe young age of sixty-four with a tribute to those hairy young men from Liverpool I swooned over when I was a mere thirteen years old (and at that time sixty-four seemed ancient).

When I'm Sixty-four
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 'til 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
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 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 your answer, fill in a form, mine forever more
Will you still need me, will you still feed me when I'm sixty-four?

Paul Mc Cartney;John Lennon
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Read more:  Beatles - When I'm 64 Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

Thanks for reading #235 of 7777.

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