Where shall we go when we grow old
And forever waits ahead?
What dreams will there be left to chase
In these lives before we’re dead?
Oh sing to me my bonny lass
Of those glorious glory days
When summer held us blessed
In the lamplight of her gaze
And high upon the hilltops
Where we rambled in our prime
Midst gorse and swathes of bracken
We abjured the march of time.
Oh we shall sail to nothingness
Where circling seabirds cry
Above the boundless ocean
That greets us when we die.
Picture - West Retford Cemetery, Notts