Chronos

A man wi’ a great big beard
A met;
Said: ‘Don’t be feared
If ye get wet.

Run twenty years
On nature’s liquor,
Hit velocity
An die the quicker.

Let the watter rin
Ower the top o yer heid,
And don’t come up
Till they think ye’re deid.

When the crowds are away
An the stars are out,
Land back on earth
Wi a helluva clout.

Then dance a dozen
Steps or two
On yer empty grave:
Ye’ll do, ye’ll do.’