To wish you joy on your birthday
And all the whole year through,
For all the best that life can hold
Is none too good for you.

To you on your birthday, glass held high,
Glad it's you that's older - not I.

The horse and mule live thirty years
And never knows of wines and beers.
The goat and sheep at twenty die
Without a taste of scotch or rye.
The cow drinks water by the ton
And at eighteen is mostly done.
The dog at fifteen cashes in
Without the aid of rum or gin.
The modest, sober, bone-dry hen
Lays eggs for noggs and dies at ten.
But sinful, ginful, rum-soaked men
Survive three-score years and ten.
And some of us...though mighty few
Stay pickled 'til we're ninety-two.

Happy birthday to you
And many to be,
With friends that are true
As you are to me

Another candle in your cake?
Well, that's no cause to pout,
Be glad that you have strength enough
To blow the damn thing out.

Many happy returns of the day of your birth:
Many happy blessings to brighten your pathway on earth;
Many friendships to cheer and provoke you to mirth;
Many feastings and frolics to add to your girth.

Source: Robert L. Lord