I grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says ElliotnI grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says Elliotnndays keep growing short, nights toonlet us go then, you and Inand try to unlearn, says Elliotnhe seeks for return and burns ancient love lettersnnlet us go then you and I and lie by marble stone says Elliotnand put a record on the gramophonenLie down dearnon the weednDon't weep dearngayly cladnsadness is a radical quantity says Elliotnsadness is a long brown ribbon, says hensadness is beautifulnnI grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says ElliotnI grow old I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled says Elliot