When you walk along the street, how oftentimes you meet
Some poor old man who's gotten old and gray.
With age his back is bent, in his pockets not a cent,
And for shelter he has no place to stay.
His relations by the score, they'll turn him from the
door -
They'll see him on the street and pass him by.
If you ask them why they do, they'll turn and say to you,
"He is old, he's gray, he's only in the way."
Now let us cheer them on, for they won't be with us long.
Don't sneer at them because they're old and gray.
Just remember while you're young that for you the day may
come,
When you'll be old and gray, and only in the way.
Now my message, I am sure, is for rich as well as poor,
For take a rich man when he's growing old -
His relations 'round him stand, and take him by the hand
-
They all want him to die, they want his gold.
And what it's truly worth to own the riches of this
earth,
He'll discover at the closing of the day.
After all he's like the poor when his journey's nearly
o'er -
He finds he's old and gray and only in the way.
Now let us cheer them on, for they won't be with us long.
Don't sneer at them because they're old and gray.
Just remember while you're young that for you the day may
come,
When you'll be old and gray, and only in the way.