The man with the scythe.

It's not time, Oh man of bone,
For you to come for me.
Whet your scythe with sharpening stone,
But go and let me be.
I told you once long years ago,
That I don't belong to you.
I have not changed my mind you know,
For this I will never do.
So steal away you man of bone,
Don't knock upon my door.
I have a will of granite stone,
With me you cannot score.
The pact I made with him on high,
Was for three score years and ten.
When that time is drawing nigh,
You can come for me then.
You cannot know, oh man of bone,
That life can be so sweet.
So go on your way, and go alone.
Until it is time for us to meet.
When you come with scythe so sharp,
Be quick to do your work.
Don't let me linger, I wont carp,
Or act like one berserk.
As I have lived, so will I die,
Stubborn like a mule.
And when you take me up on high,
I will call you a ruddy fool.
 

Bernard Shaw.