Wash your hands. Don’t Touch your face.
Many years from now
Will you still be sending me a valentine
Birthday greetings, bottle of wine?
If I’d been out till quarter to three
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I’m sixty-four?
30 Seconds at a Paul McCartney pace (I get so tired of Row, Row).
Oh, and wear a Mask. Socially Distance. Back in the Cess Pool of Pus.