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sir francis bacon - the life of man - ghizela rowe lyrics

the world’s a bubble, and the life of man
less than a span:
in his conception wretched, from the womb
so to the tomb;
curst from his cradle, and brought up to years
with cares and fears
who then to frail mortality shall trust
but limns on water, or but writes in dust

yet whilst with sorrow here we live opprest
what life is best?
courts are but only superficial schools
to dandle fools:
the rural parts are turn’d into a den
of savage men:
and where’s a city from foul vice so free
but may be term’d the worst of all the three?

domestic cares afflict the husband’s bed
or pains his head:
those that live single, take it for a curse
or do things worse:
some would have children : those that have them, moan
or wish them gone:
what is it, then, to have, or have no wife
but single thraldom, or a double strife?
our own affections still at home to please
is a disease:
to cross the seas to any foreign soil
peril and toil:
wars with their noise affright us ; when they cease
we are worse in peace: —
what then remains, but that we still should cry
for being born, or, being born, to die?

- ghizela rowe lyrics

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