Happy 137th.

[icebluenothing]

Oh, sing with me of strutting pigs
In their fashions bright and bold
Of little sprigs that always twig
in tiny trees of gold

We'll sing of how the daffows dill,
all out standing in their fields,
We'll tell how pumpkins often will,
in autumn, keep their orange peeled

Let's dance a dance of everglades,
with mossy branches drooping
Into the picnics that we made,
of sandwiching and souping

We'll dance until we both fall down
and then fall up again
We'll dance right through this whole damn town
And not fall out, love, we'll fall in

We'll dance for all the lonely tables
With their awkward four left feet,
We'll dance for mice and pens and clouds, and then if we're still able
We shall dance and sing and scream like kings at everyone we meet

We'll dizzy 'til we spin,
and hoarse until we're yell
We'll kid and kid like we were little laughs again
Oh, the nevers that we'll secret tell

For thing's have gone all teacup,
And the day moves treacle-slow,
And our heads are stuffed with gears and springs
Of things we used to know

Like how many miles does the Eiffel Tower grow,
and how many ones make seven,
Or if poison mushrooms are good to eat
And do good kittens go to heaven

No more for growing old is us!
We'll ever younger get
But we've each been taught too much good sense
And we've so much to forget -- !