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Monday, February 20, 2012

Whistling Past



Fine version of an old dirge, Oh Death.

What is this that I can't see
An icy hand taking hold of me
I am Death, none can excel
I open the door to heaven or hell

O Death, O Death
Won't you spare me over 'til another year

O Death, someone will pray
Please wait to call me another day
The children pray and the preacher preach
But time and mercy are out of your reach

O Death, O Death
Won't you spare me over 'til another year

I'll fix your feet 'til you can't walk
Lock your jaw 'til you can't talk
Close your eyes so you can't see
This very air, come and go with me

O Death, O Death
Won't you spare me over 'til another year

O Death, please consider my age
Please don't take me at this stage
My wealth is all at your command
If you would move your icy hand

O Death, O Death
Won't you spare me over 'til another year
Lauren O'Connell

(Thanks to KCJay for sending that one along)

1 comment:

Casey Klahn said...

Lauren's good. Innovative.