©2004 Neal Gladstone
You were born this day hip hip hooray
So we threw this party for you
But with due respect we must not forget
The one who conceived and bore you
Let’s drink a toast to your mother
It’s the least that we can do
It’s your mother’s birthday too
For 9 long months she groans and grunts
And turns into a teepee
Then out you slid and all you did was
Breast feed and go pee pee
So pick up the phone and call her
It’s the least that you can do
It’s your mother’s birthday too
For 16 years you cause her tears
While she works her fingers boney
She bakes you pie while she scrapes by
On crackers and boloney
So pick up the phone and call her
It’s the least that you can do
It’s your mother’s birthday too
Then one fine day you move away saying
“See you at Thanksgiving”
Well she builds you a shrine and she spends her time
Asking if life is worth living
So pick up the phone and call her
It’s the least that you can do
It’s your mother’s birthday too
Bridge
You think you’re so special, go on take your bow
But without your mother, where would you be now
Would it ask so much you ungrateful putz
To think of her more often
How will you sleep you selfish creep
When you’ve put her in her coffin
So pick up the phone and call her
It’s the least that you can do
It’s your mother’s birthday too