Rage, Rage against My Age? (Bob Thomas’s 80th Birthday celebration)

Eighty years have gone since when

my mother fussed like a brooding hen

my father, who rather liked my style,

said I’d grow up

in a short pants while.

And I would rage, rage, upon the page,

against the years that span my age

against the cake of candle light,

against the dying of the night.

so, happy birthday to me

happy birthday to me

happy birthday, Bobbie Thomas,

happy birthday

to me.

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