It Won't Always Be Like This

Emma, sitting in her rocking chair,
Feeling secure in her Victorian lair,
Lacework lying finished on the dusty shelf,
Poor Emma seventy years herself.

Edward, sitting in director's chair,
Feeling secure with his stocks and shares,
House and home and the best of health,
Here's to Edward and his so-called wealth.

It won't always be like this,
It won't always be like this,
It won't be , it won't always be
It won't always be like this

Stocks can fall and chairs can splinter,
Like fading lace, summer turns to winter.
House and home, which once seemed secure,
Are just a memory and exist no more.

Man clinging to the things that fail
Woman depending on a man so frail,
When will they learn that only God is sure?
In him they can find a life secure.