“Darling I am growing old” —
So the toiler told his wife —
“Father Time the days have tolled
Of my usefulness in life.
Just tonight my master told me
He can’t use me any more.
Oh, my darling, do not scold me,
When the wolf comes to our door.”

CHORUS:
To the scrap heap we are going
When we’re overworked and old —
When our weary heads are showing
Silver threads among the gold.

“Darling, I am growing old –”
He once more his wife did tell —
“All my labor pow’r I’ve sold
I have nothing more to sell.
Though I’m dying from starvation
I shall shout with all my might
To the coming generation.
I shall shout with all my might –”

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