It will not mend itself;
Nor wager on the rain's delay
By Providence or Elf.
Ere hailstones cleave your cranium
And lightning sear your brains
And talc of spent uranium
Impregnate your remains -
Make haste! I wait with thread and wire
And glue and fabrics fine.
My craft will guard your person, squire,
Your gold will shelter mine.