And today I shall be nineteen ninety four

In answer to your question I declare
That I must die seems totally bizarre
Yet since you ask which burial I prefer
Cremation seems to be the least unfair

I’d like to hear the sound of Joan of Arc
Jennifer and Leonard sing in parts
And as the Maiden burns up in the pyre
I shall be consumed by controlled fire

I’d like to be more useful while alive
I am not a husband nor a wife
But I might be a friend to those I love
And pray the sun will shine ,below, above

I think I made a Will,but why d’you ask?
Do you think you’ll benefit at last?
I plan to leave it all to Charity
One that gives old folk meringues for tea.

You never phone without your wise advice
About how housework should fulfil my life
But my mind is as good as yours, I find.
I keep it oiled and covered in red wine.

Joan of Arc will be my friend and saint
September Cohen will become my mate
He’ll sing an anthem while I sail away
And give me courage when it hurts to pray.

It’s time to laugh and cry over our lives
As to the young we dictate our archives
Though few people listen the Word
At least we can assure God that we have tried

I wonder why you never rang before
And today I shall be nineteen ninety four
I will ring you when your birthday comes
To ask you if you’d like pickling in rum.