Thos. Dudley Ah! Old Must Dye

A death’s head on your hand you need not wear
A dying head you on your shoulders bear
Need not one to tell you, you must die
You and your name may spell mortalit-aye
Ah! Must old die!
What if I was so soon in waters drowned
And when I’d cry to men, no help I found?
Need not one to tell you
You and your name may spell mortalit-aye
Young men may die, but old, these die must
'Twill not be long before you turn to dust
Ah! Must!
I’m now arrived, the sole desired port
Safe from privateers
Here’s the feast, fall to it
Then this welcome guest was seated
And in an instant all his joys completed
Longer abroad, 'tis not for thee