I spent my days in fun, br Now, Time’s up and I’m out of a job. br I used to go here and there making money, br Had brothers, friends, wife, and children br Who listened when I spoke. Now they scream at me br Just because I’m poor. Death’s br Field man is going to sit by my pillow br Waiting to grab my hair, and my friends br And relations will stack up the bier, br Fill the pitcher, ready my shroud and say br So long to the old boy br In his holy man’s get-up. br They’ll shout Hari a few times, br Dump me on the pile and walk off. br That’s it for old Ramprasad. br They’ll wipe off the tears br And dig in to their supper.