| oh the rain the weary rain
|
| stutters on my window-sill
|
| night I guess is on the wane
|
| all around has grown so still
|
| here I sit with coffee cup
|
| ah 't was rare l watched it flow
|
| in the tavern where I’d sup
|
| twenty golden years ago
|
| twenty years ago alas
|
| but stay, 't is half past twelve o’clock
|
| oh how the hours do slip away
|
| and how the weary minutes mock
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| for night and morn are wet and cold
|
| and my fire is dwindling low
|
| yet I had fire enough
|
| twenty golden years ago
|
| in my wish to show them plain
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| did I paint them honestly
|
| wifeless friendless halt and lame
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| were they but as pawns to me
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| I who never reasoned why
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| blind unjust and harsh I know
|
| yet I did live I was alive
|
| twenty golden years ago
|
| tick and lock no sound but time’s
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| and the howling winding rain
|
| tattoo’d through my withered rhyme
|
| time, and time again
|
| of all my hopes, ambitions, schemes
|
| these pages all that’s left to show
|
| gone are all my lofty dreams
|
| of twenty golden years ago |