When you star’s dropping off, losing your teeth, you’re put out to grass, (?) You've got nothing to do – spend all the day – sitting round on your arse. People think – you’re an old codger – who’s too senile to drive, Things can get pretty tough – no-one gives a stuff – when you’re sixty-five. It’s forgotten too soon – the years you put in – all that work you did, The pension is crap – you’re expected to live – on a couple of quid. Then along – comes the Poll Tax – so you struggle and you strive, You’re old and you’re grey – but you still have to pay – when you’re sixty-five.