I'll see you at the Weighing-In,
When your life's sum-total's made:
And you set your wealth in goodly deeds
Against the sins ypu've laid.
And you place your final burden
On your hard-pressed next of kin:
Send the chamber-pot back down the line,
To be filled up again!
And the hard-headed miracle-worker,
Who bathes his hands in blood.
Will welcome you to the final "nod" -
And cover you with mud.
And he'll say " You really should make the deal,"
As he offers round the hat.
"You'd better lick two fingers clean -
He'll thank you all for that."
And you slip on the greasy platform,
And you land upon your back -
You make a wish and wipe your nose
Upon the railway track.
While the high-strung locomotive,
With fumace burning bright,
Lumbers on - you wave goodbye -
And the sparks fade into night.
And as you join the Good Ship Earth,
And you mingle with the dust -
You'd better leave your underpants
With someone you can trust.
And when the Old Man with the telescope
Cuts the final strand -
You'd better lick two fingers clean,
Before you shake his hand.
