“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 Im sixty-four?
Oo-oo- You'll be older too.
Ah - 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 Im sixty-four?
Ev’ry summer we can rent a cottage in the Isle Of Wight If it's not too dear.
We shall scrimp and save. (we shall scrimp and save)
Grandchildren on your knee,
Vera, Chuck and Dave.
Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
Stating points 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 Im sixty-four?
Ho!”
I wonder if Sir Paul McCartney, waking up on 18th June 2006, a newly crowned sixty four year old is wondering whether writing (and releasing) When I’m 64 was such a good idea after all.
After all, Heather doesn’t seem to need him much these days and I would hazard a guess that he’s probably feeding himself – fast food veggie stuff. He probably did get birthday greetings, but not from his soon-to-be ex-wife.
Forget the Valentine too, Macca.
He hasn’t lost his hair, rather, his hair colour.
I could go on, but that would be kicking a man when he’s down. I genuinely feel sorry for Paul this morning. I guess that £800 million + can’t provide all the answers, or for that matter happiness.
When I’m sixty four, I hope that I’m still surrounded by the same wonderful people who show me, on a daily basis, that they love and appreciate me. I won’t have Macca’s fortune, but then again, I wouldn’t want it.
I’ll be satisfied with the grandchildren on my knee, the loving, the needing and feeding. At the end of the day, these are the only things that really matter in life.
Happy birthday Sir Paul. I hope you will find some reason to smile today. If anything, you deserve it for writing such a timeless (and to a certain degree, prophetic) song.
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 Im sixty-four?
Oo-oo- You'll be older too.
Ah - 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 Im sixty-four?
Ev’ry summer we can rent a cottage in the Isle Of Wight If it's not too dear.
We shall scrimp and save. (we shall scrimp and save)
Grandchildren on your knee,
Vera, Chuck and Dave.
Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
Stating points 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 Im sixty-four?
Ho!”
I wonder if Sir Paul McCartney, waking up on 18th June 2006, a newly crowned sixty four year old is wondering whether writing (and releasing) When I’m 64 was such a good idea after all.
After all, Heather doesn’t seem to need him much these days and I would hazard a guess that he’s probably feeding himself – fast food veggie stuff. He probably did get birthday greetings, but not from his soon-to-be ex-wife.
Forget the Valentine too, Macca.
He hasn’t lost his hair, rather, his hair colour.
I could go on, but that would be kicking a man when he’s down. I genuinely feel sorry for Paul this morning. I guess that £800 million + can’t provide all the answers, or for that matter happiness.
When I’m sixty four, I hope that I’m still surrounded by the same wonderful people who show me, on a daily basis, that they love and appreciate me. I won’t have Macca’s fortune, but then again, I wouldn’t want it.
I’ll be satisfied with the grandchildren on my knee, the loving, the needing and feeding. At the end of the day, these are the only things that really matter in life.
Happy birthday Sir Paul. I hope you will find some reason to smile today. If anything, you deserve it for writing such a timeless (and to a certain degree, prophetic) song.
Comments