Seventeenth of April
There's a birthday in a country town, On April seventeen, And if royalty were still in vogue She'd be an Irish Queen.
She's loved I'm sure both near and far By friends and family -- Her friendliness makes loving ways It's surely plain to see.
There's an Irish lad in this country town And she's the apple of his eye-- With her instant smile and friendly way there's no need to wonder why.
	Seventeen in April marks Another passing year. But like gems and priceless art, She just becomes more dear.
This Irish lad in this country town, I'm sure he did surmise, That when he picked this Irish lass He had won a golden prize.