The second day of February,
The year of '39,
When Mrs. Coleman had a girl
Her number one, in line.
She grew up in the country,
Down Ballyronan way,
And by the lough with siblings young,
This little girl did play.
She has a grown up family,
And they have offspring too,
'If only our Patricia
Would find someone to woo'
Although she is a great nurse,
A vet she'll never make,
Just ask about the budgerigar
Whose poor old leg did break.
She has a lovely handbag,
Like every other lass,
Just don't ask what she had in hers
That Sunday, during mass.
Whenever she was younger,
She loved to have a dance,
To get those joints a-moving now,
She'd need put in a trance.
She's always nice and slender,
And never on a diet,
But her cholesterol can be good
Or sometimes just run riot.
So now it's 1999
And years have passed, three score,
So happy birthday Eileen
And here's to sixty more.
The year of '39,
When Mrs. Coleman had a girl
Her number one, in line.
She grew up in the country,
Down Ballyronan way,
And by the lough with siblings young,
This little girl did play.
She has a grown up family,
And they have offspring too,
'If only our Patricia
Would find someone to woo'
Although she is a great nurse,
A vet she'll never make,
Just ask about the budgerigar
Whose poor old leg did break.
She has a lovely handbag,
Like every other lass,
Just don't ask what she had in hers
That Sunday, during mass.
Whenever she was younger,
She loved to have a dance,
To get those joints a-moving now,
She'd need put in a trance.
She's always nice and slender,
And never on a diet,
But her cholesterol can be good
Or sometimes just run riot.
So now it's 1999
And years have passed, three score,
So happy birthday Eileen
And here's to sixty more.
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