By Jonathan Srock
May the flies never attack you
And the birds sing only your song.
May the hair on your head remain on your head
And not grow out through your ears instead.
From the mountains to the valleys
From the hills to the plains
Everything you touch or do
Let it abound for you.
May your fingers never fall off
And your toes stay in their place.
May your health not be like goodness
Which never terries long enough for grace.
May your body be whole
And your days bright and crisp
May you always remember me and this blessing
Especially when I am but a whisp.