Casting my mind back, I can’t bear but to think,
To think of all the evil I did without a blink,
Asking myself, if they would ever shrink,
So with a feathery heart, I could have a last drink.
My stories will be told as if it were a thriller,
But with more of a chiller,
While I journey on in my old trailer
To see an old whaler.
I wonder if the fates have given me an advance
So I could have enough time to please my audience
And to atone for all my impudence,
But with a deadly last stance
To seek the ultimate difference.
Between giving-up and going-on
I was thrown into a dungeon to fight on
To face the dreaded Dragon
To ride back home in death’s fancy wagon.