THO ' I call'd not for DEATH ,
To deprive me of breath,
Yet this is to tell my DEAR Tommy ,
That I find myself ill,
Even I SAAC wants skill
To keep the grim skeleton from me.

With his pale horses prancing,
That prince is advancing,
We divines call the black king of terrors ;
Who will soon close the scene
Of a life that has been
Full of CARES , DISAPPOINTMENTS , and ERRORS .

Is it so? let him come,
That meagre old bum ,
His latitat can't be prevented;
I've been in the paw
Of that lyon the law ,
With all ills but of his been presented.

Now from life I am hurl'd,
From my friends and the world,
From my FRIENDS did I say, O how few !
If I had but a dozen
Like you pick'd and chosen,
Shou'd be sorry to bid YOU ADIEU .