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A Song of Time's Meridian
But I've one more proof, and a better one still;
For the most conclusive sign That in order to sing you need not swill,
Are these here lines of mine. My songs, while men shall see the sun,
With wonder they'll review; And the best of it is that the whole thing's done
On Mineral Waters, too.
Chorus On Ginger-pop I sing until I drop
And flounder on the ground. So, Landlord, carry me out with care, For your inn is turning round
And round, Your inn is turning round !
A SONG OF TIME'S MERIDIAN
By T. Michael Pope
'Tis half-past six. With eager stride We haste to where the roads divide. O hour with joy and gladness fraught ! O pinnacle of Time ! Methought A voice without the tavern cried,
" 'Tis half-past six ! "
No longer need we be denied. . . . The old church clock has surely lied ? Our labour has not been for naught ?
' Tis half-past six ?
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