When the final curtain falls; will it be upon dull white sheets?
With a pale wall and that white hall just out of reach of balled feet
unable to crawl. Will my hands be too tired to continue the brawl of life?
That I become nothing more than a doll; unable to crawl into that hall,
As the final curtain falls; upon white dull sheets . . . Perhaps,
I should ponder in the wander of my thought to the wonder of;
What chaps and what lassies will be there in applause,
as the final curtain falls.