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The Original Jolly Corks Toast

Now is the hour when Elkdom's tower is darkened by the shroud of night, and father time on his silver chime Tolls off each

moment's flight.

 

In Cloistered halls, each Elk recalls His Brothers where'er they be, And traces their faces to well-known places In the annals

of memory.

 

Whether they stand on a foreign land Or lie in an earthen bed, Whether they be on the boundless sea With the breakers of

death ahead.

 

Whate'er their plight on this eerie night Whate'er their fate may be Where ever they are be it near or far. They are thinking of you

and me.

 

So drink from the fountain of fellowship To the Brother who clasped your hand And wrote your worth in the rock of earth And your faults upon the sand.

 

TO OUR ABSENT BROTHERS

© 2019 San Mateo Elks Lodge No. 1112

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