What’s Another Year?

You’ve ridden the fiercest camel up the slopes of Timonfaya,
In a market up in Swanlinbar, you wished that it were drier,
You’ve sunbathed up in Bettystown, bought antiques up in Navan,
And drank a fair amount during the long weekend in Cavan.

You dressed the house at Christmastime and made the place look merry,
You brought us all around the shops while up in Enniskerry,
You’ve made the bed two hundred times, and each day washed the sink,
And must have made approximately three hundred meals, I think.

You cut back all your roses and you planted shrubs all over,
You’ve fought a very gallant, losing battle with the clover,
You’ve attended at the ballet in the National Concert Hall,
And grimaced when your crappy football team won bugger all.

You’ve been up to the Draoicht, and you’ve been to pictures too,
Elizabeth George has had to write some extra books for you,
You’ve helped out with the papers and you’ve followed all the soaps,
And haven’t let the Lottery conspire to raise our hopes.

Another year, another year, another year has passed,
I hope you find the next one will be better than the last,
For, though you’ve got to forty-four, you’re still quite young and nifty,
And not at all like someone who is getting on for fifty.