Page 57 - Birthday

Text:

Seventy-six trombones play your birthday song,
While a hundred and ten cornets sound on high.
They were followed by aeroplanes
Forming their flight in narrow lanes
To write your name up in the sky.

Seventy-sic good years you’ve put in the books,
With a hundred and ten more than one can do.
All the people who call you friend
Would gladly lay out end to end,
To spell out “Happy Day” for you!

(parody of “Seventy-six Trombones” by Meredith Willson)