When my steps get slower, stumbling around not so long from now, When I start repeating stories I’ve told, forgetting names, and what I’ve been sold. If I’ve been vomiting at a quarter to three Would you mop the floor? Will you still love me, will you still hug me, When I’m ninety-four? Aaaah I have lost my hair. Oh, and if I could only chew. Would you be aware? I could be standing at the door When my lights are gone. You could watch me fall on the floor Monday morning, I could be wrong. Rinsing the dishes, burning the toast, Looking at the roast. Will you still love me, will you still hug me, When I’m ninety-four? When it’s warm we could go fishing, In the White River if it’s not too swift. We could use shrimp and corn. Lures if it’s what you want. Trout, bass, and pike. While I’m still standing, call on my line, Tell me what you think. If you like fishing call me today, I’m getting sleepy, call anyway I’m in my rocker, thinking of you, My son, evermore. Will you still love me, will you still hug me, When I’m ninety-four?
