Time to quit the stage

It dawns on me with age,
Time to quit the stage,
Rosemary, Thyme and Sage,
Spice in life, that was my wage.

Rose, oh Rosemary,
You it is that makes me be
Mary, mother, come to me,
Let it be, oh, let it be.

Thyme, oh Thyme,
You it took to shade my prime,
Father, hearten me in time,
Make me more and more sublime.

Sage, oh Sage,
You were piling wisdom on my stage,
Sophos I became at age,
Insight be eternal wage.

Parsley shall cover the spot
Which beneath I rest and rot
On my stone grave four-leafed clover
Happy go lucky, Over is Over!

OR:

Parsley, that I plain forgot,
Cover my bed when I rest and rot.
And for my tombstone I decree:
Sage, Thyme and Rosemary.

(Alfred Becker, 27 September 2014)