Canções na memória (I)

«Quando trauteámos When I'm sixty four (...), não parámos para pensar que chegaríamos aos sessenta e quatro bem mais rapidamente do que então teríamos podido imaginar». («Entre as brumas da memória...», p.119)



When I'm 64 (The Beatles, 1967)

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.
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?