Jack Is Gone
He whom I used to know is gone,
Lost in the shadow of his pride
Went down not by the bullet of the gun:
But by the wave of his ignorance tide
Lo Jack, a mess,
All rounder left to nothing
Yet strongly forward to press,
Fighting for a hold of something.
Clambering on the embers of countenance,
Himself above the gods raised
But they, him renounce
And so in anger his being erazed.
Oh I cry for Jack
Strong and mighty in valour
Never in want or anything lack
But now rests in a well decorated grave's parlour.
For him I do not mourn, No!
That be for him to pay the price
On the dance of his journey gets the work prize.
Oh Jack gone so soon, too bad,
Would that thee hearkened thy ears,
For you were but a lad,
Then would we have no more to shed, these tears.
Rest thee well Gentle Jack,
For words we lack.
In humility of esteemation you slack-
And now your baggages you pack,
Saying fare to us who in this world stay back.