Speeding away in unrelenting flight, The days and months of each succeeding year Are blotted out as fast as they appear, With nought to save them from their helpless plight?
So, let us mortals, on this fateful night, To "Nineteen thirty-nine," with right good cheer, Bid simple farewell, even without a tear, Ere "Nineteen forty" rustles into light.
Make merry? No! Whilst heroes far away The bounds of life are crossing, night and day, Souls desolate mid slaughter's crimson hue, Forgotten save perchance by one or two Make merry? No! But, in quiescent mirth, Bespeak a nobler brotherhood on earth
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.