Free Four

The memories of a man in his old age

Are the deeds of a man in his prime

You suffle in gloom in the sickroom

And talk to yourself till you die

Life is a short warm moment

And death is a long cold rest

You get your chance to try

In the twinkling of an eye

Eighty years with luck or even less

So all aboard for the American tour

And maybe you'll make it to the top

And mind how you go

I can tell you because I know

You may find it hard to get off

You are the angel of death

And I am the dead man's son

And he died like a mole in a fox hole

And everyone is still in the run

And who is the master of fox hounds

And who says the hunt has begun

And who calls the tune in the courtroom

And who beats the funeral drum

The memories of a man in his old age

Are the deeds of a man in his prime

You suffle in gloom in the sickroom

And talk to yourself till you die