Though the timing is rather uncanny,
Happy Birthday, I say, poet Danny.
On another year's crest
it may BE for the best
if you sat on that day on your fanny.
Turning old is a product of fate.
It's a mental/emotional state.
And just think of the kicks
when you're seventy six.
Your'e still growing at age forty-eight.
Always the Birthday poet Herbert! You do know how to make somebody's day! Happy Birthday Danny! Sincerely, Mary
Why Herbert, now you’ve got some front! Though you’ve given my ego a shunt. I’ve explained to me mates That a “Fanny” in the States Is not what we Brits call a……. Thanks H. An honour to be among your repertoire. Danny
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Young Danny's given this a fitting reply, I'd say! : -) Cheers to you both for your fun pieces of rhyme.