On March the seventeenth, you've got to wear green;
On June the tenth, you've got to like the Queen;
At a buck's night, you've got to be one of the blokes;
On April the first, you've got to play practical jokes.
Chorus:
You think I'm a shining wit, but I'm really a whining shit.
On February the fourteenth, you must have a secret lover;
On December the twenty-fifth, you must be nice to each other;
On New Year's Eve, you just have to rage;
And on April the first, you musn't act your age.
On September the first, you have to like your father;
On May the twelfth, you have to like your mother;
The last Tuesday in November, I go to the Cup;
Last Saturday in September, I got to throw up.
At the moment of conception, got to follow the norm;
Be just like every one else on the day that you were born.
You live your life by the calender on your fridge,
Die the day you pay off your mortgage.
