His old hand wipes,cleans the dial's faces,
His eyes ancient yet with vigour and glow,
pulls out an unknown song and places
on the turntable and watches it go.
As the Orb spins on its axis tilted,
north and south made in its spin,
the tunes come and go,till they are wilted,
and the man in the song has withered thin.
He pulls off the record amidst wails
from below, and looks for a new beat,
placing in gently on the equator,
he watches a new birth from his seat.
Oh! Music man,the tunes you choose!
Life and Death with lyrics sweet..
I shall dance for my master for he plays my song,
may my dance delay our meet.
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