Upon what mad, impoverished shore
one day my boat shall land
when I shall speak of days of yore
and all the things we planned.
The mid-day sun has parched my skin
the race, I know, has done me in.
And now I seek no great reward
but peace and simple quiet
and looking now I have been told
I’ve not the coin to buy it.
This race is never ending
until with dying gasp
we see our new beginning
has been paid for at last.
Let me then find my peace
when and where I may
for my labors shall not cease
until that dying day.
Know Will Dare 