And so to rest my tired eyes on hills far away from my battle cries ,
where  love and hope their pastures rise ,
and so to sleep and rest my case ,
the fall of man their human race ,
that life should be but twice the pace ,
that my dreams whenst I awake
should ever be fortold ?
A porpers tale  that i should take a crumb of bread from my masters plate

For my bones are tired , and the birds that once found their nests     
in my ribs  
have Taken to flight a long time ago .
And  so ,
now rats naw on my morbid friend ,
and nettle and daisy are my corpses new. guests
to reclaim what man once called his own ,
that man should be but skin and bone!



For grave lies cold it’s chambers bare ,
but alas I have a saviour who does not lie here ,
where decay and rotting flesh may not be found ,
somewhere with mansions built on holy ground .

Somewhere far away from this place for when my body with rigomortis lie ,
and underground catacombs their corpes still!
unmoved unbowed unto this earths decaying will .

And soon the ground in which I lay will be built apon
in brick and hay ,
and I shall be forgotten one sunny day ,
And aye I cast my cap to him a porper  bring a crown to honour
My heavenly King