Play that melancholic tune; play that
dirge again
The steady beat and soothing sound will
help to mask the pain
Let it resonate with fervor as we march
along
So that these tears seem as though they
are part of the song.
Did you hear that little bird, chirp
happily just now?
How strange it is that it seems the world
moves on somehow.
She chitters softly as she warbles amidst
the wailing crowd,
And chatters calmly as she flutters over
the funeral shroud.
Hear the preacher saying prayers in
memory of the dead;
The dead are gone, but we are here. Pray
for us instead.
Somber bells are singing lowly, swinging
side to side
And tolling ask, “who lies therein?
Who is it there that died?"
March we onward to the grave, are we
there so soon?
Then, play that simple dirge again; that
melancholic tune…
