Should I die and never wake.
Please, my pagan soul to Summelands take.
And of my body plant a tree or make ashes and feed the sea.
If the law does allow, my head you may keep.
And of it, make a night light to help you sleep.
Let the spiders, their home do make.
Add when I vist, their webs will shake.
Of sweet life, you my love, are all I miss.
But with the winds, your sweet I face kiss.
And when you come to Summerlands too, have not care.
For once again the warm cup of love we shall share.
TDK
10-21-2020 copyrighted George King
