Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, Nor yet canst thou kill me.
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, Nor yet canst thou kill me.
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