O' yellow, fellow, mourning braids,
shalt we dance along our black parades;
lest parting long-wards, O' fair daylight,
and golden shrews; the sun, we might...
O' gathered fortunes, gone and done,
and the countless bruise we hide; that's one,
that you may shine so bare and bright,
upon the coming pale, and peaceful night!

Dear parting, jolly, loyal chap,
bemind the turning, pacing gap...
And when yer folly turns a-bend,
remember one lonely, and most loyal friend.

A.r. Bazian
*Written in 2012