It Will Not Matter To Me

It will not matter to me when I've lived my last day
If I am burned to ashes or under black earth lay
Or if I'm not remembered and my praises are unsung
The old they die of old age and the good they say die young.

Though from my boyhood mountain I've travelled south and far
I've never been a soldier and risked my life in war
Some are admired as heroes and to leadership empowered
But then one person's role model is another person's coward.

Of any great adventures in my life I do not have to tell
The poets famed for their poetry and I pen doggerel
I felled pine trees by Mushera mountain when the hills wore hats of snow
And in Wales I picked potatoes more than thirty years ago.

At the foot of Clara mountain more than half a world away
The robin pipes his finest in the high woodland in May
The memories of the migrant go to a distant Spring
And though the past is gone forever to it we seem to cling.

I love you Mother Nature you are the only god I know
Yet I like many others respect to you don't show
I too once cut your trees down and left your hillside bare
And damage done to you by some left for others to repair.

It will not matter to me on the day I breathe my last
I will be gone forever and what is past is past
And it will not matter if I'm buried or to ashes me they burn
I came from Mother Nature and to her I will return.