Fear no more the heat of the sun, Nor the furious winter’s rages Your worldly tasks now are done, Gone home, and taken yer wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown of the great; Yer now past the tyrant’s stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; For you the reed is as the oak: All power, all learning, all bodies must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the lightning flash, Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Yer finished with joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must Wash out to sea, and come to dust. Yer finished with joy and moan: [Crescendo] All lovers young, all lovers must Wash out to sea, and come to dust. Wash out to sea Wash out to sea Come to dust! [instrumental outro]