| A death’s head on your hand you need not wear
|
| A dying head you on your shoulders bear
|
| Need not one to tell you, you must die
|
| You and your name may spell mortalit-aye
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| Ah! |
| Must old die!
|
| What if I was so soon in waters drowned
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| And when I’d cry to men, no help I found?
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| Need not one to tell you
|
| You and your name may spell mortalit-aye
|
| Young men may die, but old, these die must
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| 'Twill not be long before you turn to dust
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| Ah! |
| Must!
|
| I’m now arrived, the sole desired port
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| Safe from privateers
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| Here’s the feast, fall to it
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| Then this welcome guest was seated
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| And in an instant all his joys completed
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| Longer abroad, 'tis not for thee |