Bootikins

You'll die and be not happy
This has ever been the score
Some of you for want of nothing
Some of you for wanting more
Little boots did bind my painted toes
I coddled your devotion
Now I've nightly conversations
With the mountains and the ocean

I'm the lake I am the loom
I'll take your eye with a spoon
I have swords as well as islands
I can make you feel your dying try me

A perfume from a foul disease
From here to there I've walked the seas
But even feats as bold as these
Grow tiresome and dreary
O I have felt what love can do
Love can't mend a broken shoe
I don't covet love from you
You would better fear me

We're a scar that was a wound
And puckered too soon
I have swords as well as islands
I can make you feel your dying try me

Bring the poets from their brews
March them me two by two
Have them know the theme is "death"
Then let them sing it new
The well of wisdom is a fast latrine
The tree of love is sappy
Have I told you ever darling
How men die and are not happy?

When the last holly blooms
I'll fornicate with the moon
I have swords as well as islands
I can make you feel your dying
I have swords as well as islands
I can make you feel your dying try me