Birthdays are not meant for you,
They are for friends, your family,
Your pets and little ones too,
So let them candle, cake, and sing,Today is fleeting, taken wing,
And tomorrow,
What love they bear, they may not bring
No, birthdays are not meant for you,
They are meant for friends, for family,
Who seeing you age, groan long of tooth,
More treasure their own health and youth,
And glibly serve, denying the truth,
Their Martini’s have too much Vermouth
Their birthdays too are not for them,
When comes their turn for misery,
For that day you pander on them, you wrinkled old goof,
Boasting your fair health and youth,
And glibly serve, denying your truth,
Your dentures have slipped from your mouth
(Or worse, that you’ll not confess you can’t write couplets
Without the bathos of hackneyed eye-rhymes)
So, you hardened gnarly old Oak,
Consider yourself lucky, whether or not
Your balding hair has fallen with your autumn leaves,
That in curiosity of fossilized things
We’ve not as yet cared cut you down,
Then to count your dendrochronic rings.
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