My dear sweet pound
How I need thee in my arms
To bring me things that makes me smile
To take me places where I can dance.
I love you more than any mortal form
You are the substance my working eye seeks.
For thee I travel and cry, sigh when your comfort is out of my sight.
But you are a weedy little thing,
Here today and gone tomorrow.
Yet you command my every deed
Without thee I shall soon become a seed.
My dear sweet pound, the loviliest of all nickel-brass,
When on heaven's shore I reach
Standing beneath the judges bench,
To ask for that which was his own
To thee will I say has bought me whole.