Old Folks
70 Girls 70 Lyrics
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And they talk so slowly when they do
They are rich, they are poor, their illusions are gone
They share one heart for two
Their homes all smell of thyme, of old photographs
And an old-fashioned song
Though you may live in town, you live so far away
And have they laughed too much, do their dry voices crack
Talking of times gone by
And have they cried too much, a tear or two
Still always seems to cloud the eye
They tremble as they watch the old silver clock
When day is through
It tick-tocks oh so slow, it says, "Yes," it says, "No"
It says, "I'll wait for you"
The old folks dream no more
The books have gone to sleep, the piano's out of tune
The little cat is dead and no more do they sing
On a Sunday afternoon
The old folks move no more, their world's become too small
Their bodies feel like lead
They might look out the window or else sit in a chair
Or else they stay in bed
And if they still go out, arm in arm, arm in arm
In the morning's chill
It's to have a good cry, to say their last good-bye
To one who's older still
And then they go home to the old silver clock
When day is through
It tick-tocks oh so slow, it says, "Yes," it says, "No"
It says, "I'll wait for you"
The old folks never die
They just put down their heads and go to sleep one day
They hold each other's hand like children in the dark
But one will get lost anyway
And the other will remain just sitting in that room
Which makes no sound
It doesn't matter now, the song has died away
And echoes all around
You'll see them when they walk through the sun-filled park
Where children run and play
It hurts too much to smile, it hurts too much but life goes on
For still another day
As they try to escape the old silver clock
When day is through
It tick-tocks oh so slow, it says, "Yes," it says, "No"
It says, "I'll wait for you"
The old, old silver clock that's hanging on the wall
That waits for us
All
The song "Old Folks" by 70 Girls 70 is a poignant reflection on the lives of elderly individuals. The old folks in the song are described as living in a world that has become too small for them. They are rich and poor, and their illusions have all gone by. Despite their differences, they share a heart for two.
The lyrics paint a vivid picture of the daily lives of these elderly individuals. Their homes smell of thyme and old photographs, and old-fashioned songs fill the air. The world beyond their homes seems distant, though they may live in town. Their voices are dry, and they talk slowly. They may cry, and their eyes are often clouded with tears. They watch the old silver clock, which ticks so slowly, waiting for the end of the day.
The old folks dream no more, their books have gone to sleep, and the piano is out of tune. Their world has become too small, and they move no more. They may look out the window or sit in a chair, or they may stay in bed. If they go out, it is to have a good cry and say goodbye to those who are older still. The song acknowledges that the old folks never die, but simply put down their heads and go to sleep one day. They hold each other's hands like children in the dark, but one will get lost anyway. The song ends with a sobering realization that life goes on, even though it hurts too much to smile.
Line by Line Meaning
The old folks don't talk much
Elderly people often prefer silence over conversation.
And they talk so slowly when they do
When they do talk, the pace is slow, methodical, and deliberate.
They are rich, they are poor, their illusions are gone
Their varied financial statuses are irrelevant, they have lost their youthful naivete.
They share one heart for two
Their love for each other is the only thing keeping them going.
Their homes all smell of thyme, of old photographs
Their houses are filled with the smell of nostalgia and memories of days gone by.
And an old-fashioned song
The music they listen to is from a bygone era.
Though you may live in town, you live so far away
Their experiences have set them so far apart from modern society.
When you've lived too long
Being alive for so long is a burden.
And have they laughed too much, do their dry voices crack
Their laughter is a distant memory, now replaced by frail, strained voices.
Talking of times gone by
Their conversations are always centered around the past.
And have they cried too much, a tear or two
They have cried so much that even a tear or two always seem to cloud their eyes.
Still always seems to cloud the eye
Their tears are a permanent fixture in their eyes, a constant reminder of sadness.
They tremble as they watch the old silver clock
The only thing that fills them with anxiety is the ticking of the clock, marking the passage of time.
When day is through
Their days are filled with tedium and monotony.
It tick-tocks oh so slow, it says, "Yes," it says, "No"
The clock ticks slowly, each tick and tock marking the inevitability of life.
It says, "I'll wait for you"
The clock serves as a reminder of their mortality and that time is running out.
The old folks dream no more
Their dreams and aspirations have all but disappeared.
The books have gone to sleep, the piano's out of tune
Their once active minds and musical abilities have deteriorated with age.
The little cat is dead and no more do they sing
The things they once enjoyed, like pets and singing, are no longer part of their lives.
On a Sunday afternoon
The day of the week is meaningless, as every day is the same to them.
The old folks move no more, their world's become too small
Their mobility is limited, as is their world view.
Their bodies feel like lead
Their physical deterioration is taking its toll on their bodies.
They might look out the window or else sit in a chair
They spend the majority of their days sitting and observing, no longer able to actively participate.
Or else they stay in bed
Even getting out of bed is a struggle, and they often stay there all day.
And if they still go out, arm in arm, arm in arm
When they do go out, they rely on each other for support.
In the morning's chill
They are still able to feel the cold, a reminder of their continued existence.
It's to have a good cry, to say their last goodbye
They often leave the house to grieve and say goodbye to others who are also nearing the end of their life.
To one who's older still
The community of elderly people is all they have left.
And then they go home to the old silver clock
No matter where they go, they always come back to their inevitable destiny.
The old folks never die
Even in death, the old folks remain, no longer feeling the weight of their age.
They just put down their heads and go to sleep one day
Death is no longer feared, just a natural part of their existence.
They hold each other's hand like children in the dark
Even in their final moments, they seek comfort from the person they love.
But one will get lost anyway
One of them will inevitably pass on, leaving the other alone in the darkness.
And the other will remain just sitting in that room
The survivor will be left to sit and mourn in the same room, with the same memories.
Which makes no sound
The room is now devoid of the sound of their loved one's voice.
It doesn't matter now, the song has died away
Their life and love has come to an end, with nothing left but silence.
And echoes all around
The silence is deafening, with only the echoes of their memories left behind.
You'll see them when they walk through the sun-filled park
The sight of elderly people in contrast to happy, carefree children can be jarring.
Where children run and play
Children embody the youth and vitality that the elderly have lost.
It hurts too much to smile, it hurts too much but life goes on
The pain of lost youth and loved ones is overwhelming, but life continues despite the pain.
For still another day
They must continue living, even though it is a struggle to do so.
As they try to escape the old silver clock
The ticking of the clock is a constant reminder of their own mortality.
When day is through
Their only reprieve is the end of another long and difficult day.
It tick-tocks oh so slow, it says, "Yes," it says, "No"
The clock is a reminder that life ticks away, whether we're ready or not.
It says, "I'll wait for you"
Their time is coming, but the clock will keep ticking, waiting patiently for their demise.
The old, old silver clock that's hanging on the wall
The clock is a constant presence in their lives, a symbol of the end that is coming for them all.
That waits for us
No matter how long we live, the clock will always be there, ticking away the seconds until our time is up.
All
End of the song.
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Written by: GERARD JOUANNEST, JACQUES ROMAN BREL, JEAN CORTI, MORT SHUMAN
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind