Fare thee well, and if for ever Still for ever fare thee well.
A legal broom's a moral chimney-sweeper, And that's the reason he himself's so dirty
There is a tear for all who die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave.
Accursed be the city where the laws would stifle nature's!
Lord of himself; that heritage of woe!
Well, well, the world must turn upon its axis, And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails, And live and die, make love and pay our taxes, And as the veering winds shift, shift our sails.