I must have a Band
I’m not usually mad about funerals
Though I’ve been to some wakes that were nice
Everyone drinking and singing
Lasting all through the night, once or twice.
I know funerals bring out the good things,
People dress up and look smart,
And we’ve progressed to journeys in Daimlers,
When once it was horses and cart.
I’m not usually mad about funerals,
But this morning,a sight changed my mind.
Our butcher, high-class, from the High Street
Had a funeral,unusual kind.
Two horses, both blacker than misery
Pulled a beautiful hearse, filled with flowers
The way those two trotted was magic,
If I could, I’d have watched them for hours.
At the front walked the funeral director,
Top hatted and cane in his hand,
You’re not going to believe what I tell you
But following behind was a band
Brass instruments gleamed in the sunshine
And the music was sweet to the ears,
Our butcher liked Gilbert and Sullivan
We got Ruddigore then Gondoliers.
Now that's what I call a good funeral
Traffic-stopping and people who stare,
Not rushed in a car to the churchyard
You’re special, when you’re no longer here.
So, I’m going to leave fresh instructions
When my time comes, I want a good show,
I want horses and band like my butcher,
If I can’t have a band, I won’t go.
Be true to yourself
I Lyn (Mar 31st 2007)
I’m not usually mad about funerals
Though I’ve been to some wakes that were nice
Everyone drinking and singing
Lasting all through the night, once or twice.
I know funerals bring out the good things,
People dress up and look smart,
And we’ve progressed to journeys in Daimlers,
When once it was horses and cart.
I’m not usually mad about funerals,
But this morning,a sight changed my mind.
Our butcher, high-class, from the High Street
Had a funeral,unusual kind.
Two horses, both blacker than misery
Pulled a beautiful hearse, filled with flowers
The way those two trotted was magic,
If I could, I’d have watched them for hours.
At the front walked the funeral director,
Top hatted and cane in his hand,
You’re not going to believe what I tell you
But following behind was a band
Brass instruments gleamed in the sunshine
And the music was sweet to the ears,
Our butcher liked Gilbert and Sullivan
We got Ruddigore then Gondoliers.
Now that's what I call a good funeral
Traffic-stopping and people who stare,
Not rushed in a car to the churchyard
You’re special, when you’re no longer here.
So, I’m going to leave fresh instructions
When my time comes, I want a good show,
I want horses and band like my butcher,
If I can’t have a band, I won’t go.
Be true to yourself
I Lyn (Mar 31st 2007)