Let me go when The Reaper’s near;
he’s not a man who I should fear.
I fear instead, the lingering pain;
the dragging on with nought to gain.
And if I should balk at that last walk,
remember I’ve always talked the talk;
give me a push, help me on my way;
a favour I promise I will repay
when I can push you through death’s door
so you too suffer life’s pain no more.
a foolhardy florilegium 