When my time comes. I’ve reached my three score years, and ten I’ve had a wondrous life I’ve done bad things, earned some karma And wed a lovely wife I’ve served my country willingly In a country torn with war And adopted, me a great country I could not ask for more. Who knows when my time will come? I’ve abused my body some I’ve drank the beer, and smoked the drugs And acted kind of dumb But when that time comes I must leave To go to other shores I can say that I have really lived In all these years before. I’ve wrote me seven thousand songs Life story all in rhyme And two full chapters from the Bible But now I’m past my prime All that I can ask is this That folk will read my story I do not want to die without At least this bit of glory. I believe that every soul Should leave something behind And so I leave folk all of this My rhythm, and my rhyme For me I have poured out my heart In writing down these things Although I know that in the end They do not mean a thing. 5 January 2014 @ 1510hrs.