64

Last week was my 64th birthday. A lovely day celebrated in the company of old friends.
Of course, the Beatles tune “When I’m Sixty Four” has been running through my head ever since.

I wonder why they chose 64? Is it an age that has special significance in English culture? Maybe it just fit their rhyme scheme better, although I find it hard to believe that John and Paul couldn’t rhyme anything they chose. At any rate, Sixty-four is a landmark now simply because the Beatle made it one.

My original idea for this blog was to re-write the Beatle’s song from the perspective of one who has reached that hoary age rather than a young man looking from afar. However, you cannot improve upon perfection. The Beatles got it right the first time.

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?

oo oo oo oo oo oo oo oooo
You'll be older too, (ah ah ah ah 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 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?


Whoo!