Another year and no wiser
he has made it to sixty-five
the birthday boy's name is Rolf Kaiser
and he keeps the tradition alive.
Now he's aiming for twenty more years,
there is plenty of God-given reason
as his mission is one million beers
all year long will be beer-drinking season.
If he ever gets tired of tin
or the glass of those stubbies in brown,
he will likely switch over to gin
and Maria will call him a clown.
I suggest that we wish him the best
for his health and his money tree
I for one, as a willing guest
know he'll save a few spirits for me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem