Peter ‘Pud’ John Cornish

The clock of life is wound but once

And no-one has the power

To say just when the hands will stop

The year, the day, the hour.

To lose your wealth is bad enough,

To lose your health is more

To lose your soul a tragedy

That no-one can restore.

Today alone you call your own

To do with as you will

Don’t count upon tomorrow friends

The hands may then be still.