Thursday, December 06, 2007

Last night's party was a blast. David swears he was surprised, but I'm not so sure. I know what a good actor he is. I wish I had not volunteered to play the piano, and if I had any dignity, I would be embarrassed. The sopranos needed my voice worse than the group needed my pitiful playing, but we had several non-singers joining us in the regaling, so overall, it was appropriately hideous. The collage above includes the few members who could not be there last night, and I saved a blank spot for one who was there but managed to stay out of all the pictures - Jeff. If anyone can send me a shot of him, I'll add it. (Friday update - Jeff has been added. Thanks, Michelle!)

David got several nice gifts, but also several gag gifts. I gave him a "Princess" coffee mug which seemed to be the hit with the crowd and with him, second only to the can of "Spotted Dick," which is an English pudding (the new thing I learned yesterday). The biggest hit, though, was the song. (Words by Don Lacy pictured above in top right corner)

We come with joy unbounded, to sing thee this glad song
Of how thy life, well rounded hath lasted oh so long
For thou hast had a birthday, thou shalt not soon forget.
And these years shalt not shorten, they just get longer yet.

Oh, David, thou art fifty, a half a century old.
Thy vaunt is not so nifty, thy stride is not so bold.
Now old as the state of Hawaii, and not much younger than dirt
The truth we now share with thee, however much it hurts.

First let's look at thy memory, please pay attention here.
Thou seems't to lack the ability to keep thy music near.
Oh, what's so hard about keeping a score where it should be?
Instead of out the door creeping during the homily.

Thou art so deaf we must shout (repeat, louder),
and there's that thing with thy hair
We would not say it's falling out, but thou hast none to spare
And why are notes so tiny that they can scarce be seen.
We'd rather not be whiney, but thy eyesight's not too keen.

And as to thy sexuality, best get it whilst thou can!
Soon you'll lack the ability to take matters in hand.
As you grow old all's harder, except for one small thing.
And that would be thy ardor. At least, thou can still sing.
Now at the fifty year mark, there's something thou must know.
To these wise words thou must hark, as your digestion slows.
Old guys have known forever, (you'll learn 'cause you're no sap)
From now on never, never, pass up a nap or crap!


Jean and I are not going to the gym today. She's trying to decorate for Christmas and read Jan Karon's new book at the same time. She bought the book for Pam when she went to a reading and book signing with her son in Birmingham. Home to Holly Springs is about Father Tim's early years in Mississippi, and I can't wait to read it myself. Pam is at a Realtor's Convention in Tunica. Tomorrow, for sure, we'll go to the gym.

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