Tis the eve of my birthday
And I'm lieing in my bed
If the year was really 1710
I'd probably now be dead
But now we Live forever
A hundred years or more
I've only got some 44
It sounds a wretched bore
So I'm now not even middle aged
Just over blooming youth
Tell that to my aching knees
And this niggling bitchy tooth
Tell that to the ladies
Or should I call them women
No all us hearty single men
Are obssesed with looks and slimming
Am I really all that bothered
Should I really give a shit
As I wait here for my birthday
I suppose a little bit
But this birthday time I'm single
Got no one in my bed
I tell you what I think I'll do
Is paint the bloody town red!
Happy birthday me!
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