To the tune of the volga boat song... Happy Bithday (grunt here) Happy Bithday (grunt again) So you've aged another year Now you know your death is near Happy Bithdy (!) Happy Birthday (!)

Pestilence has struck your town You yourself feel quite run down...

Hear the women wail and weep Kill them all but spare the sheep...

They stole your sword, your gold your house Took your sheep but not your spouse...

Indigestion's what you get From the enemies you've et...

May the children in the street Be your barbecuing meat...

May the candle on your cake burn like cities in your wake...

And all that kinda stuff!

Finny

(before people jump on me, yes I am aware that you probably do have this in another thread somewhere...)