Beneath, above is ice - Iím pining midst it, -
To hole upwards or to drill the floor?
Of course, to rise, have no hope missed,
To set to work then visas waiting for.
Ice over me, be broken cracking strong!
A ploughman like in a sweat Iím rolled.
Iíll come to you like ships do in the song
Remembering all, even verses old.
I am five decades younger - forty odd being, -
Your love and God me living try to salve.
Iíve lots to sing before the Lord appearing,
I have some things to justify myself.