In nineteen hundred and ninety-two
My working day should all be through
I'll be the happiest girl alive
For then I shall be sixty-five
Each month I watch those old folks grin,
Each month those pension cheques roll in.
Each month they get the pot of gold,
All for simply being old.
Whoever thought they'd see the day
When getting old meant getting paid,
And if you're paying to much rent
You just apply for supplement.
And as if that isn't quite enough,
You get all kinds of other stuff
Like discounts off on bus and planes
And then you also get the gains.
And ten percent of all your clothes
And senior rates on first class shows
And travel tours are all the rage
If only you are senior age.
And housing shouldn't bother you
Your O.H.C. will help you through
And even send some younger chap
To come around and fix your tap.
If I had known when I was twenty
The real true meaning of "Land of Plenty"
I would have moved both Heaven and Earth
To falsify my date of birth
And Politicians please take note
You'll wish you'd lost by just one vote
If I wake up in ninety-three
And there's no pension left for me,
And worse if on my birthday morn,
Old Gabriel should blow his horn
He'd better plan to keep on blowing
Without my pension, --- I'm not going!