midnight
Here , young woman , bring him a pint o ' ale , and put three-ha ` porth of gin in it -- the door 's openin ' , and he 's goin ' through . He 'll soon be there -- '' ` Fade far away , dissolve , and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known . ' All right -- it 's bloomin ' well all right -- do n't give him any more . '' ` Now more than ever seems it rich to die , To cease upon the midnight with no pain . ' -- It 's the Passing Bell . -- What are they ringing it for ? -- He 's not dead -- he 'll come back again when he 's ready .