Sick transistor, Gloria.

We will not let the world complain
For hearts beating hard, for joy turned to pain,
For tears shed to trickle in twos down the drain,
For the glory of England, the might that was Spain,
For Tobrouk and Montgomery El Alemain,
For all that once was;
For moments of mind,
For fragments of love,
For a second of art ticked away;
For the catch of a voice,
For the touch of a hand,
For the sound of a hot summer’s day;
For Florentine David dissolved by the rain,
For the sound of a horn, for dead Dennis Brain,
For all not the same
Be happy they came;
For all that is transient may happen again