Spirit and Truth Ministries
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"HAPPY BIRTHDAY" HUBERT
Don Hawley
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Note: This is a book I wrote for children, one I hope parents can read
to their kids without gagging themselves. Two or three editors pronounced
the material "very good," but somehow couldn't find the will to publish it.
Some kids like swimming. and others like biking.
Some go or dolls, while others go hiking.
Most all kids agree
That vacations are dandy,
And I never met one that didn’t like candy.
But one day I did
Meet the strangest of boys;
He didn’t like fun, and he didn’t like toys.
You couldn’t get Hubert
(For that was his name)
To climb up a tree, or play in a game.
In all the whole world
There was only one thing
That Hubert enjoyed—and that was to sing!
Now singing is great.
It’s nice to rejoice
You can make people happy. If you’ve got a good voice!
But Hubert, poor fellow, just didn’t know how.
He brayed like a donkey. or mooed like a cow.
He wasn’t embarrassed.
He was ready quite proud.
And though it was awful, at least he was LOUD!
When Hubert sang out
It caused lot’s of pain.
The sun didn’t shine, and the rain didn’t rain.
The chickens quit clucking, the bees didn’t buzz.
The trees lost their leaves, the peaches their fuzz.
The babies cried more.
The birdies sang less,
The clocks wouldn’t tick; it was really a mess.
If people went out
They had plugs in their ears.
But even at that they would burst into tears.
By now you must think
That it couldn't get worse.
Oh yes it can—just check the next verse,
For the thing that was bad
That was really all wrong
Was that Hubert, poor Hubert, had only one song!
The song that he sang
(It never was new)
Always came out “Happy Birthday to you."
Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday! All over town.
He sang to the dentist,
He sang to the clown.
He sang it to grandmas, and girls with curls.
He sang it to grandpas, and oysters with pearls.
He sang to the robber locked up in the jail.
He sang for the man that delivered the mail.
He sang to the short,
And he sang to the tall.
He sang if it wasn’t their birthday at all!
And leave it to Hubert
To make a mistake.
Along with his song he would bake them a cake!
A cake calls for candles,
One for each year.
Still, as long as you’re careful, there’s nothing to fear.
But Hubert delighted in candles galore.
He’d count the right number,
Then add more and more.
A two-year-old child would likely get twenty,
And any adult would have candles aplenty.
A lady of eighty
Got four thousand one,
And the light was as bright as the light from the sun.
The night was alight
With a bright yellow glow.
It awakened a rooster who started to crow!
Of course the more candles
A birthday would take,
The wider and taller the cake that he’d bake.
The tops of these cakes
Were so high in the air,
That Hubert--to frost them--would stand on a chair.
But the birthday that Hubert was happy to see
Was that of a man
Who was one hundred and thee!
A month in advance Hubert started to make
What newspapers called "the world’s largest cake"
Trucks rolled up daily with big bags of flour,
Milk, sugar, and eggs arrived by the hour.
There was never an oven
To take such a cake,
But hundreds of irons would make the thing bake.
Hubert worked hard.
He wanted to please.
The frosting, when frosted, came up to his knees.
All of the candles came in on a boat.
With all of those candles, it hardly would float.
In counting the candles they stopped at a million.
Bull rather suppose there were more than a jillion.
"At last," called out Hubert,
A smile on his face,
"The job is all finished—the candles in place”
The big day arrived, and Hubert was proud.
He felt like a hero with such a big crowd.
The mommies came out,
And so did the pops.
They let out the schools,
They closed up the shops.
Thc mayor was heard, and so was the band.
Then Hubert stepped out with matches in hand.
Up a tall ladder he went in a minute,
And lighting a candle
He began to begin it.
The people said. “Ah,
What a beautiful sight.”
They thought it quite right to light up the night.
But that many candles made such a big fire,
That flames kept on climbing, higher and higher!
The flames kept on leaping,
They wouldn’t go down,
It seemed for a time they would bun up the town.
A lady named Sadie ran off in a scurry,
To get all the firemen there in a hurry.
They came with their hoses and buckets and such.
They emptied their buckets . . . it didn't help much.
The hoses were better,
They kicked up a spray.
And the last spark was out by noon the next day.
The party was over.
The people went home,
With Hubert, poor Hubert, left standing alone.
The beautiful cake was no longer a treat.
The water had made it too soggy to eat.
The frosting had melted,
The candles had too.
And all that was left was a big pile of goo.
But all was not lost.
There was still room for joy,
For Hubert, our Hubert, was now a new boy.
He no longer sang, instead he was quiet.
The baking of cakes had no place in his diet.
Now people went out with no plugs in their ears.
And Hubert brought smiles instead of big tears.
The babies cried less.
The birdies sang more.
The clocks went on ticking as they had before.
The bees started buzzing,
The trees became green.
The peaches were fuzzy as any you’ve seen.
And Hubert went swimming.
He rode on a bike.
There wasn’t a game that he didn’t like.
The kids will now tell you,
When it comes to fun,
There’s no one like Hubert-- no sir, not one!
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