When I’m Sixty-Four
The Beatles
redone for The Gundackers

 
Now that I’m older, grey in my hair
Many years gone by
Where are all those letters that you sent to me
Where are all the letters that I sent to you
What if I came and you had met me
Would we have made it through?
Who could have seen it, who could have known it
Only Reverend Moon
What did he see in us
And because you said the word
I could come to you
You were so handy, taking the kids
When your work was done
You can cook and bake and still mend a fuse
Sunday mornings going to town
Doing the garden, planting the veg
Who could ask for more
How did we make it, how did we reach this
Now I’m sixty-four
Every Sunday we went to the Hofburg
With our choir boys, one after the other
Yes we scrimped and saved
No grandchildren to be seen
Five boys well behaved
You sent me letters, called on the phone
With a calling card
You went to Denmark, Belgium and Holland
I ended up in Canberra
You gave your answer. Then we met
Madison Square Garden
Now I still need you, do you still need me
Now I’m sixty-four