||24 Марта 2013г.
When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now,
will you still be senting me a Valentine,
birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I`d been out `till quarter to three, would you lock the door?
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Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when
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You`ll be older, too.
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Aaah, 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?