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 E1k recalls
His Brothers where're 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

 

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Eleventh Hour Toast

 

You have listened to the tolling of the eleventh chime,
A reminder our pleasures should cease for a time
In order that those who have finished their score,
May all be brought to mind once more
Wherever our brothers may wander or roam,
On land or sea or their celestial home.
Whatever their lot and life may be,
It is meet with us the surviving to see.

That the hour of eleven on the dial of night,
Shall never pass beyond our sight,
Without our hearts to throb and swell
In wishing our absent brothers well.

Our golden hour of mutual recollection,
A time devoted to silent reflection
Of the home bound brothers on a distant shore,
And the roll call of those, who will come no more.

Regardless of the paths their lives may have taken,
They are never forgotten, never forsaken.
Morning and noon may pass them by,
The light of day fade from the sky,

But ere the shadow of midnight shall fall,
The chimes of memory shall summon us all.
To speed them a message above all others,
God grant you peace,

TO OUR ABSENT BROTHERS

 

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