The Sun Won't Set (Act Two)

The sun sits low Diffusing its usual glow Five o'clock Twilight Vespers sound And it's six o'clock Twilight All around But the sun sits low As low as it's going to go Eight o'clock Twilight How enthralling It's nine o'clock Twilight Slowly crawling towards Ten o'clock Twilight Crickets calling The vespers ring The nightingale's waiting to sing The rest of us wait on a string Perpetual sunset Is rather an unsettling thing To lose a lover Or even a husband or two During the course of one's life Can be vexing But to lose one's teeth is a catastrophe Bear that in mind, child As you chomp so recklessly into that ginger snap Very well. grandmother More champagne, Frid One bottle the less of the Mumms '87 will not I hope Diminish the hilarity at my wake The sun won't set It's fruitless to hope or to fret It's dark as it's going to get The hands on the clock turn But don't sing a nocturne just yet They're coming! Nonsense But they are! Impossible No guest with the slightest grasp of what is seemly Would arrive before 5:15 on a Friday afternoon Good God, you're right! Frid! We cannot be caught squating on the ground Like bohemians