Happy half-a-century

By Bas Holzhaus

And so as I turned fifty
A party would be thrown
It was my friends' decision
Not something of my own

For me, a year a year is
Just like a day's a day
No need to live by numbers
And count your life away

But no, a feast it would be
And useless my protest
"You show up in the hall, man
And wear your Sunday best!"

So there I went, that evening
Well groomed and dressed up neat
But when they saw me coming
Confusion was complete

Some guests just stared and stuttered
While others walked right out
The party soon was over
My friends, they stood about

And boy! Did I look good
In my birthday suit

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