When He’s 64
Happy Birthday to "my old man." But first, a song:
When I’m 64
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?
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.
Ah, 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?
—
OK, no grandchildren, and instead of a cottage in the Isle of Wight, it’s a cabin in the North Georgia Mountains and a tiny urban getaway in Boston. Whatever the case, Happy Birthday Dad! Hope 64 is a grand year for you. 😀
Comment by Abby's mom
December 3, 2005 @ 1:51 am
“will you still feed me, when I’m sixty four?”
Today I cooked an eight pound rump roast for his birthday party, so I guess the answer is “yes.”