When friends are listening round me, Jack, to hear my dying breath, <br />And I am lying in a sleep they say will end in death, <br />Don’t notice what the doctor says—and let the nurse complain—— <br />I’ll tell you how to rouse me if I’ll ever wake again. <br /> <br />Just you bring in your fiddle, Jack, and set your heart in tune, <br />And strike up “Annie Laurie”, or “The Rising of the Moon”; <br />And if you see no token of a rising in my throat, <br />You’ll need to brace your mouth, old man—I’m booked by Charon’s boat. <br /> <br />And if you are not satisfied that I am off the scene, <br />Strike up “The Marseillaise”, or else “The Wearing of the Green”; <br />And should my fingers tremble not, then I have crossed the line, <br />But keep your fingers steady, Jack, and strike up “Auld Lang Syne”.<br /><br />Henry Lawson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-tunes-3/
