The music of times past
The rhythm of years passed
Oh no longer will we be
The sons and daughters of Adam and Eve.
Whatever shall we say
On that glorious, moonlit day
When all will be done,
The battles fought, our wars won?
Will we cry out to the Lord
Or will we speak of our own accord?
Not much longer will we ask,
“Can I have a meal or two
To save up for the bask?”
The time for crying is over and done,
The years of laborious labor are coming to an end.
The one who has saved us, He will once again send.
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