Chickens Come Home To Roost

You may take the world as it comes and goes,
And you will be sure to find
That Fate will square the account she owes,
Whoever comes out behind;
And all things bad that a man has done,
By whatsoever induced,
Return at last to him, one by one,
As the chickens come home to roost.

You may scrape and toil and pinch and save,
While your hoarded wealth expands,
Till the cold, dark shadow of the grave
Is nearing your life’s last sands;
But you will have your balance struck some night,
And you will find your hoard reduced;
You’ll view your life in another light
When the chickens come home to roost.

You may scrape and toil and pinch and save,
While your hoarded wealth expands,
Till the cold, dark shadow of the grave
Is nearing you life’s last sands;
But you will have your balance struck some night,
And you will find your hoard reduced;
You’ll view your life in another light
When the chickens come home to roost.

Sow as you will, there’s a time to reap
For the good and the bad as well;
And conscience, whether we wake or sleep,
Is either a Heaven or Hell,
And every wrong will find its place,
And every passion loosed
Drifts back and meets you face to face
When the chickens come home to roost.

Whether you’re over or under the sod,
The result will be the same;
You cannot escape the hand of God,
You must bear your sin and shame.
No matter what’s carved on a marble slab,
When the items are all produced,
You’ll find that St Peter was keeping tab,
And that chickens come home to roost

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