Two more
Arrr, oi managed two more fer the birthday greetin' afore oi sent it plummetin' through the ether.
'Appy Birthday, ye scurvy sea dog.
Shall we go fer a sail in the fog?
Just clam up yer mouth
as ye sail to the south
or ye'll turn all our fresh air to smog.
'Appy Birthday ol' Daniel me lad.
Oim glad ye've gone stark ravin' mad,
'cause if you'd been sane
with a rational brain
it'd make me black pirate 'eart sad.