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As I gaze upon the tiny screen
Of my diary . . . which runs on digits,
It flashes “This is a signal day!”
On which, no one should fidget.
Yet, where George resides, the day’s ‘bout done,
So I hope I’ve yet not missed the fun,
Of cheering our friend, stout son of Scots,
A man whose humor comes in megawatts.
In Newcastle Upon Tyne, it might've have rained today
But, never, never, on George’s abode.
For only the sunshine of birthday greetings
Is what, TeeEssers assert, he’s owed.
This day’s our great pal’s Natal Day,
Or, 'twas a mere 70 + 7 years ago . . .
This Mac-ster’s a raconteur, y’know,
Also a Grandpa – extraordinaire . . . Ho ! ho!
A jovial member of our Senior Caucus,
For decades George saw that, across the land
Cadbury’s finest would be always there
So to make days like this quite grand.
Now, here’s a question for all to ponder.
What does a “candyman” favor?
When ’tis he we’ve gathered to cheer and honor,
A bit of chocolate, I’ll wager!
It’s morning when this is posted
Along San Francisco’s fabled Bay.
While evening settles on the North Sea's shore,
Which seems, to me, quite far, far away.
Yet no matter how great that distance
Trusty TeeEss’ reach is, oh, quite wide.
Our greetings and wishes are warm, indeed,
Which are dispatched, to him, with pride.
Happy Birthday,George!
