The oldest inhabitant here, or there;
The latest arrival everywhere.
By the wink of my eye your clocks are set,
And the corn you cut when my scythe I whet.
’Tis the wag of my beard marks music’s sound,
Makes the sun come up, and the world go round.
And you tell by my smile, or shake of head
When to turn out, or to turn into bed!
Now Time is money, so, therefore, you see
Whoever wants gold must reckon with me;