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Time, like an ever-rolling stream, bears all its sons away; |
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They fly, forgotten, as a dream dies at the op'ning day. |
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Rub-a-dub-dub |
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It's time for a scrub |
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So through clouds of steam |
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To a cracked and faded cream |
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Bath-tub wanders frail |
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Aphrodite, so pale |
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Pink and white |
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She is naked as sin |
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Wearing nothing but a grin |
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And a pin in her hair |
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Will she be drowned? |
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Found |
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With her hair tied behind |
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Shoulders back |
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And head inclined |
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To the sound of music |
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Playing above |
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Bathing her in love |
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But darkness and fear |
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Will disappear like the soap |
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When she opens her eyes. |
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She throws back her dormer windows |
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Morning light shows ophelia raised |
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From her watery grave in a brave new world. |
