My Will is easy to decide
For there is nothing to divide
My kin don't need to fuss and moan—
"Moss does not cling to rolling stone"

My body? — Oh! — If I could choose
I would to ashes it reduce
And let the merry breezes blow
My dust to where some flowers grow

Perhaps some fading flower then
Would come to life and bloom again.
This is my Last and Final Will.—
Good Luck to All of you
                         Joe Hill

We watch as seasons come and go
But hard times always stay, we know.
A hundred years long you've been gone,
Your song, Joe Hill, still carries on.

Codicil by Henry Peacock 2015