I'll see you at the weighing-in, When your life's sum-total's made And you set your wealth in godly deeds Against the sins you'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.'' As you slip on the greasy platform, And you land upon your back, You make a wish and you wipe your nose upon the railway track. While the high-strung locomotive, With furnace 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.
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