Happy Birthday to You

Some four and a quarter hours after a silver-voiced Western Union songster, even more of a human nightingale than usual owing to sucking throat pastilles, had chanted into the receiver of his telephone that beautiful lyric which begins :

     Happy birthday to you,

     Happy birthday to you,

and goes on (in case the reader has forgotten):

     Happy birthday to you,

     Happy birthday to you,

Spring Fever. Chapter 3

[...] he has a singing dog on the premises. According to him the animal has a repertory ranging from 'My Wild Irish Rose' to 'Happy Birthday'.

Plum Pie. Our Man in America 8th