Tomorrow is a very special day for a very special guy. It’s Adam’s birthday! Hurray!! In celebration of this momentous occasion, may I present – “When He’s Thirty-One*.”

* sung to the tune of The Beatles “When I’m Sixty-Four.”

When he gets older, gray in his ginge,
Not too long from now,
Will he be as wrinkly as a leather bag?
Will he start to look like a hag?

Once he has age spots, walks with a cane,
Will he be as fun?
Will he still tease us, will he still please us,
When he’s thirty-one?

Oooooooo
Will he lose his mind?
Joints start to creak and pop,
Hope he won’t go blind.

Can he stay outré, cheeky and brash,
As the days go by?
Mellowing with age might modify his ‘tude,
I hope he stays cocky and rude.

Yelling at children, “Get off my lawn!”
Fly always undone,
Will he still tease us, will he still please us,
When he’s thirty-one?

Years advance, he poops his pants, Depends, Ensure, there is no cure,
for old – now he smells like pee.
Dementia’s made him vague,
Commenters stay away,
Mikey, Polt and Craig.

Passing out Werthers, gumming his food,
Trying to get it up,
Osteoporosis, disease and decay,
He’s sincerely rotting away.

Hearing loss, hemorrhoids, varicose veins,
Old age has begun.
Will he still tease us, will he still please us,
When he’s thirty-one?

Poo!

Happy Birthday Adam!