Come sinners all! Come everyone!
Come burn your fancies in the sun!
Upon a shore of mile-high flames,
We’ll play our fancy-burning games,
‘Til day is done.
Forsooth! Foretell! For what will be!
Come drown your fancies in the sea!
When ev’ryone has had enough
Of drowning in the waters rough,
We’ll break for tea.
For fear they yet may make a sound,
Inter your fancies underground.
And when we’re done with this endeavour,
We’ll dance with fancies, aye, forever,
When Death comes round.