If growing up means it would be

beneath my dignity to climb a tree

I’ll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up. Not me.

Tomorrow, I will be celebrating my birthday.

I’ll be getting old. Older.

So, let them (you!) eat cake, I say.

As long as it’s Kosher for Passover.

And I’m serious.

I’ll never grow up.
Not me. Not I. Not me. No Sir.