When the Sun grows tired
When its spirits sag
When for strength, for rest
It yearns,
To fill that lack
Would you stand up?
Would you hold Sun's hand?
Would you say, "With you I stand,
Take your break
I'll hold your fort
Whatever it takes
Return at leisure
When you're ready for more sport
I'll burn for you, I'll shed my life
I owe you much, you;ve given me light."
Poor old Sun!
So wrinkled, so grave
None to see your tears
To see you crave;
Burn on then
So long as life in you lasts
By and by you'll burn fast
One day you'll stop, for sure
When you've earned your rest
Await the Promised Day
Till then, work is best.
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