We Celebrate Your Natal Day


We Celebrate Your Natal Day
Copyright © 2005 Joe and Rebecca Duval

We celebrate your natal day when you were first a pup
And raise our tankards to your health now that you’re all grown up
This special day – a holiday – your Sainted Mother’s Whelping Day!
We celebrate your natal day when you were first a pup.

We’re proud of our Bard Elder – He’s the Greatest in the World!
He keeps our camp harmonious, our banners all unfurled
The fire’s built, he’s cooked the meat
Request a song, he’s not asleep!
We’re proud of our Bard Elder – He’s the Greatest in the World!

We raise a glass to our Guidwife – the best one that we’ve got!
We always find delight in what she’s cooking in her pot
She sets up camp for bastard kids
Oh, blat-ass! she’s hit the skids!
We raise a glass to our Guidwife – the best one that we’ve got.

Now shimmy for our dancing girl with coins upon her ass
With lips a-shine with lip balm and her tongue so full of sass
She sings with zest, her sleeve is cool
Her tassled tribe is Ban-dál-ful
Now shimmy for our dancing girl with coins upon her ass.

Cheers to the bloody English cook who makes his home in hell
The bastard’s old and dirty, but his brisket sure is swell
His pork is fresh, it’s never canned
He’s Breakfast King – He’s Bacon Man
Cheers to the bloody English cook who makes his home in hell.

We trust in our Chirurgeon that she’ll fix us when we’re broke
She’ll kiss us on our boo-boos and she’ll smack us if we choke
She’ll give your dog just what it needs
Her famous drive-by surgery!
We trust in our Chirurgeon that she’ll fix us when we’re broke.

Clap hands for Larry’s daughter, sweetest Danish in the pan
Just like her almond roca, she’s a jewel in the sand
Her flöde is gröde, her lox is tops
If we are cold, she’ll knit us socks
Clap hands for Larry’s daughter, sweetest Danish in the pan.

To greet our bouncy rampant mouse now let us give a squeak
A veritable fount of knowledge, our stripey-sock-ed geek
She tries to do whate’er she can
But she’ll skip a class for a hairy man
To greet our bouncy rampant mouse now let us give a squeak.

Nous celebrons ce jonguleur qui vient de Normandie
His arrows may not kill you, but he’ll slay with poetry
A hairy man – a Thespian
No cake for him, just give him flan
We celebrate this minstral lad who comes from Normandie.

A cup of coffee for the bard who’s up before the dawn (to hunt lentils)
The tales she tells on center stage will never make us yawn
Her drag kit is the best we’ve seen
She’s Cliar Cu Buidhe’s Drama Queen!
A cup of coffee for the bard who’s up before the dawn (to hunt lentils).

Bonsoir to the French President and Concertina King
It took this archer many years to give his bride a ring
His off-hand puns will make you curse
Lucky Pierre, this is your verse!
Bonsoir to the French President and Concertina King.

Now whistle for our frenchie lass who always does her part
Her humor creeps upon you like a silent, deadly fart
She’ll journal friends as she sits watch
If she seems shy, just give her scotch!
Now whistle for our frenchie lass who always does her part.

Huzzah to Lady B’Set and her famous Open Arms
She lays her hands upon you and it’s like a magic charm
Her chocolate warms our hands and face
She keeps her baby in a case!
Huzzah to Lady B’Set and her famous Open Arms!

Sing loud to gentle D-wulf, he’s the tallest in the band
His heart is made of solid gold, a giant of a man
He sings our songs and plays guitar
Be nice to him, he traveled far
Sing loud to gentle D-wulf, he’s the tallest in the band. (Second tallest!)