There is a tune that we do, called The End of the World, from the long-ago dobro-playing Oswald Kirby. Players on the various instruments in our group take their turn at being featured, but because I can no longer play guitar because of my frozen shoulder I wrote a couple of verses to the tune, which we all sing when it’s my turn. They go:
“When the darkness gathers ‘round, silently, without sound
Voices bleak seem to speak through the gloom
Everything will disappear, erasing all that I hold dear
Then I believe that I can see the end of the world.

“But with the coming of the dawn when all trace of dark has gone
And the Earth knows its worth, again will bloom
And bright sun’s sweet caress brings me hope and happiness
Then I can see there’ll never be an end of the world.”

And that is the hope I cling to.