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 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 it 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 for evermore
Will you still need me
Will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four

... Y HOY FINALMENTE, PAUL, LLEGÓ A LOS 64.

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Y para terminar, una muestra de cómo fue que empezó a ser incómodo el cuñis precioso. (Cartón publicado originalmente en Milenio Diario del sábado 17 de Junio.)