The Craftsmens work of day is done, the Brethren now must part.
"A Tylers Toast" our Master cries, "to warm each faithful heart."
For though we go our separate ways, our bond is ever strong.
The magic of the mystic tie will draw us back ere long.
Until then, think, each time you meet a Brother down on luck,
Whose life is marked by poverty, perhaps by illness struck.
That "If not for the Grace of God, I might walk in his shoes,
I wonder how much I can spare, to help him meet his dues."
And spare a wish for Brethren, who through no fault, their own,
May find themselves in foreign lands, and labouring alone.
That once the day shall come when they no longer need to roam,
May each enjoy a swift and happy voyage to his home.
Long may our Lodges welcome Craftsmen, travelling to the East.
And may our secrets guide good hearts, until each souls release
To wing its own way Heav'nward, these heartfelt words ingrain,
We're happy to meet, sorry to part, happy to meet again.
To our next merry meeting.