His birthday is St. Patrick's Day,
So Mom named him Pat.
He's got the spirit of the blarney,
And nothing wrong with that.
Don't try to call him Saint Anything,
Unless there's a Saint for beer,
'Cause he doesn't do false piety
And martyrdom's not near.
He does love animals like St. Francis,
And he keeps Mom in his heart,
Best of all, he loves me madly,
I'd say that tops the chart.
I toasted him with a green beer, but I can't remember what I did after that.