You Are Not Worth The Dust Which

A Great While Ago The World Begun, With Hey, Ho, The Wind And The Rain; But That's All One, Our Play Is Done, And We'll Strive To Please You Every Day.

Then Is It Sin To Rush Into The Secret House Of Death. Ere Death Dare Come To Us?

Nature Does Require Her Time Of Preservation, Which Perforce, I Her Frail Son Amongst My Brethren Mortal, Must Give My Attendance To.

Put Forth Thy Hand, Reach At The Glorious Gold.

Take You Me For A Sponge?