 | The Burden of the Bell and Other Lyrics |  |
143
THE NAIL IN THE COFFIN.
What, threescore years and ten!—out-laughed a child, with eager look—
Oh, good my mother, there'll be time—nay, close that weary book!
Hark! very sweet the ousel sings upon the old elm bough,
And my trusty hound he waiteth me—I hear him whine e'en now;
For I've promised he shall scour to-day the beechwood by the burn,
And rouse the coney from the brake and the hare from out the fern:
Oh! good my mother, chide me not—sweet mother, smile instead;
I'll read anon, when skies grow dark, and the merry months have fled.
Tap! tap! said the hammer
To the nail in the coffin-lid!
Oh, good my mother, there'll be time—nay, close that weary book!
Hark! very sweet the ousel sings upon the old elm bough,
And my trusty hound he waiteth me—I hear him whine e'en now;
For I've promised he shall scour to-day the beechwood by the burn,
And rouse the coney from the brake and the hare from out the fern:
Oh! good my mother, chide me not—sweet mother, smile instead;
I'll read anon, when skies grow dark, and the merry months have fled.
Tap! tap! said the hammer
To the nail in the coffin-lid!
144
Oh, life is very long!—exclaimed the maid between her smiles;
What reck I for the solemn priest, who all earth's joy reviles?
The time, indeed may come for this glad heart of mine to wear
The sadder coloured vesture meet for trial and for care:—
But I have lovers twain, to-day—as all the world doth know,
And the sky is very blue above and bright the earth below;
And round about my pathway all sweet sounds and scents are shed—
I'll give good heed, O solemn priest!—when youth—and these—have fled.
Tap! tap! said the hammer
To the nail in the coffin-lid!
What reck I for the solemn priest, who all earth's joy reviles?
The time, indeed may come for this glad heart of mine to wear
The sadder coloured vesture meet for trial and for care:—
But I have lovers twain, to-day—as all the world doth know,
And the sky is very blue above and bright the earth below;
And round about my pathway all sweet sounds and scents are shed—
I'll give good heed, O solemn priest!—when youth—and these—have fled.
Tap! tap! said the hammer
To the nail in the coffin-lid!
Drink, drink, thou sullen, sad-faced loon! why list what dullards say?—
Quoth a yeoman old, with rosy cheek, of stalwart heart and gay;
There's no such virtue in their prayers and preachings, well I trow,
As sparkles up from this full bowl, that saith—“Come, quaff me now.”
Life's sand runs fast, too well I wot—I'm old, I know, and grey,—
But, troth! it seems to me, sir knave, I grow more hale each day:
Knock at my door, thou sad-faced loon, when ten good years have fled,—
And-ha! ha!—we'll drain as full a bowl, and never a drop be shed!
Tap! tap! said the hammer
To the nail in the coffin-lid!
Quoth a yeoman old, with rosy cheek, of stalwart heart and gay;
There's no such virtue in their prayers and preachings, well I trow,
As sparkles up from this full bowl, that saith—“Come, quaff me now.”
145
But, troth! it seems to me, sir knave, I grow more hale each day:
Knock at my door, thou sad-faced loon, when ten good years have fled,—
And-ha! ha!—we'll drain as full a bowl, and never a drop be shed!
Tap! tap! said the hammer
To the nail in the coffin-lid!
| The Burden of the Bell and Other Lyrics | |