A Birthday Poem

It's your sixty - sixth birthday and what a milestone in time
Why reverse those two numbers and you get ninety nine
Still best not to dwell on what's nearly in view
Let's focus instead on the wonders of you

I could write an essay, a great work or report
But instead here's a poem of the irreverent sort
A collection of things that are both good and bad
Which come straight to mind when I think of my Dad

You've had a few jobs, Dad, in your passing day
A Miner, a tailor - the ol' green beret
And now you're ensconced in the management chair
No wonder you're gradually losing your hair

You've travelled the world, you've seen quite a bit
And those Old English Sheepdogs should keep you quite fit
For your next jaunt or journey to pastures unknown
Just remember to eventually find your way home

You like a good story it has to be said
I've many a fond memory of being tucked up in bed
Listening to the antics of Mole and of Toad
I'm expecting the book sometime down the road

You've been known, on occasion, to have the odd drink
Not unreasonable to mention at this juncture I think
But moving on swiftly just a comment is due
Of how jolly you are after a bottle or two

You're getting on a bit now, Dad, I don't mean to be cruel
Though you're still a long way from bed pans and gruel
Your hearing aids mean we no longer must shout
Of what past conversations have all been about

You commute to and from the big smoke every day
And spend time at a gentleman's club - Oh I say
Then rush home to the country when you hear the call
Of your vast hungry menagerie - yes ducks and all!

Now I've come to the end of my tribute it seems
And I've barely touched on what being you means
So I'll just raise my glass to sixty - six years on the hill
And here's to a great many more to come still!