HAPPY BIRTHDAY

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Happy birthday, happy birthday,
Happy birthday to me,
Never thought I'd make it to this anniversary.
Two years ago I thought it'd be nifty,
To make it to the age of fifty.
And now my years beneath the sun,
They now total fifty-one.
Although I admit to jumping the gun,
And celebrating early, tempting fate,
My birthday's not until the seventh,
But I am antsy and just can't wait.

You're welcome to come to my party,
You don't have to wear a costume.
Just bring a smile that's warm and hearty,
And perhaps one of those big balloons.
You know the ones, helium filled,
With a pithy line like you're over the hill,
Or in my case, wow, you're not quite dead.
But although you're not yet deathly ill,
You spend a lot of time in bed.

And although my head is nearly bare,
And my brain as soft as jello.
I'm really none the worse for wear,
Well, not for an 80 year old fellow.
Come join my sweet frivolity,
My geriatric jollity.
Mr. Parkinson will be here,
And do his dyskinetic dance,
I made it through in spite of him,
Paid the piper, took the chance.

And now I'm set for another year,
I rejoice so much to be here,
Posting pictures of kittens and flowers,
Whiling away my final hours.
Closest thing to a Facebook king
This tired old world has ever seen.
Promoting my glorified gay agenda
And my hedonistic lifestyle,
As I gasp for breath and lurch toward death,
Blowing out the candles on my birthday cake of smiles.

Happy birthday, happy birthday,
Happy birthday to me.
Never thought I'd make it to this anniversary.
Fifty-one years on this lofty luscious earth,
You can bet I'm going to milk this day
For all the fun it's worth,

Perhaps I'll go on a vicious tear, who knows what I'll do?
Probably just spend the day with Judy and with Emmylou.
And if you are my neighbor and hear my blasting stereo,
Just say, so sad, just leave him be, it's just that birthday weirdo.

And my beloved Mary Chapin with her ashes and her roses,
Or the handsome Rufus Wainwright in provocative poses.
They will all drop by the old Victrola to spread some natal cheer,
And marvel that I made it through to see another year.
Or the great Kathy Mattea with her Appalachian charm,
A birthday boy could sure be proud to have her on his arm.

At most I may just overdose on a surfeit of chocolate,
The bittersweet is good for you, full of antioxidants.
All in all I can promise you a happy holiday,
Grateful for the wisdom that the years have sent my way.

I'll spend my birthday with my love.
He's a true blue friend of mine.
I need or want for nothing but my cherished valentine.
Happy birthday, happy birthday, I know I'll have a splendid time,
And then I'll be all tuckered out and sawing logs by nine.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED