The clock doth strike the parting hour,
and as it nears, the fear shall cower,
for as I ease of miserable life,
thou of grieve shall be much rife.
Thou who whom giveth the lifeth name,
thou source of all my worldly shame,
thine whose purpose is a mere hour\'s grace,
only for death to part and embrace.
Then thou oh blanket of dirt and cold,
thou who hides the sin of old,
I shall surely rejoice the hour\'s end,
come oh dear, oh fustiest friend.