Merrily sings
Of macabre things
He who views god as a debtor
On his behalf
Those that laugh
They laugh and they know better
And in his age
His wisdom grew sage
And viewed them above as below
He fought in vain
To hold and retain
The knowledge he wished to bestow
To his bed he did take
Sickly and thin as a rake
Spectral visitors came late at night
Silent and weak
Neither did speak
Till the valley of long absent light
In stranger lands
Along dark soft sands
He demands his recompense made
Silent and still
He sits on the hill
Where his beggars bones were laid
