Scotch, make it double, Joe while you are at it-
My thirst is not what we need concern now
I cadge freely your drinks, well what of it?
Rage, rage against the dying of the light-
Nothing good can come out of it I know
Unless with booze wash this red-hot gullet.
I shall hold my life a ransom to thirst:
Dare not go gentle into night somehow
Like whipt cur on the run,- but first things first ,-
Sweet is the day but will live to regret:
Youth who lay hope more than day shall allow
Has nothing left but golden youth misspent
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight,
Time the bloody hound making a meal of
Hope, they ne’r even had a chance at it.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light:
Life was a holy grail to seek and now
I know my life from youth up was mis-hit
Curse, bless, Oh does it matter in the least?