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Happy Birthday, LABT!


blackhawkrush
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"Happy 60th Birthday". Hopefully, you are able to have a pleasant, and enjoyable day. You're welcome. Edited by Derek19
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Sorry about the Grobstein thread. :blush:

Thanks, buddy...I left Chicagoland 38 years ago, so I'm not familiar with Grobstein, hence, no offense taken.

 

:cheers:

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Happy birthday labt! Have a great day! :cheers:

Thanks, TF! It's close enough to the Pats and Cowboys losing that I'm still riding high....

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Happy Birthday!

 

f9ee671cdcc4dd1b4ee24a89c079aaef.jpg

Thanks, duck.

 

 

You'll be well into six digits with your posts before anyone touches that mark.

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"Happy 60th Birthday". Hopefully, you are able to have a pleasant, and enjoyable day.

Thanks, Derek!

 

Hope you don't mind if it's enjoyable and pleasant instead...

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Welcome to the '60s club!!

Thanks, zepp!

 

It's better than the alternative. Most days, at least...

images-3830.jpg?rect=0,0,500,500&q=98&fm=jpg&fit=max

 

The old rocker wore his hair too long

Wore his trouser cuffs too tight

Unfashionable to the end drank his ale too light

 

Death's head belts buckle, yesterday's dreams

The transport caf' prophet of doom

Ringing no change in his double sewn seams

In his post-war babe gloom

 

Now he's too old to rock 'n' roll

But he's too young to die

Yes, he's too old to rock 'n' roll

But he's too young to die

 

He once owned a Harley Davidson

And a triumph Bonneville

Counted his friends in burned out spark plugs

And prays that he always will

 

But he's the last of the blue blood greasers boys

And all of his mates are doing time

Married with three kids up by the ring road

Sold their souls straight down the line

 

And some of them own little sports cars

And meet at the tennis club do's

For drinks on a Sunday, work on Monday

They've thrown away their blue suede shoes

 

Now they're too old to rock 'n' roll

And they're too young to die

And they're too old to rock 'n' roll

And they're too young to die

 

So the old rocker gets out his bike

To make a ton before he takes his leave

Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner

Just like it used to be

 

And as he flies, tears in his eyes

His wind-whipped words echo the final take

And he hits the trunk road doing around a 120

With no room left to brake

 

And he was too old to rock 'n' roll

But he was too young to die

He was too old to rock 'n' roll

And he was too young to die

 

No, you're never too old to rock 'n' roll

If you're too young to die

No, you're never too old to rock 'n' roll

But he was too young to die

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