Should you doubt
Life’s fleeting pace,
I’ll set you right
On lifespan’s face,
The days that burn
With barely time
To see the night,
Or a full term
Of this life’s race,
Save ye borrow
Someone’s turn
Afore the morrow,
Less fate means play
A slice of mirth,
And chose instead
A bed of earth,
Be untimely stead
Tells best not dwell,
On wasteful notions
While ever nearer be,
Those waiting morrows!