The shovel hits the dirt in softened thunks
I hope you come up whole, and not in chunks
You’re buried deep, at six feet down
Was she buried in jeans or in a gown?
I hope to be your Romeo from a thousand romance plays
Nevermind, I think you know what dead girls can’t say
Nilsen gave me some sage advice
Don’t ever go to the same yard twice
And don’t toss the old ones in the sink
That’s one good way to get tossed in the clink
Six feet of dirt now to my side
You’re coming with me, you’re taking a ride
You thought the hearse was the last of your life
Don’t be daft, honey, you’ll soon be my wife!
Your coffin smells, my dear it’s true
It is no matter, I love your blue
Skin, your thinning hair
Into your fading eyes I stare
As I caress
That cold dead spot
Beneath your dress
I hope, my dear, you don’t mind the trunk
My head is swimming; am I in love or just drunk?
Oh, if you look upon my trunk with dread
Would help to think of it as a marital bed?
Maybe some wine to get in the mood, with you by side
Just the moonlight a pint of the Wild I
I know some look upon me strange
And some would call my love deranged
They don’t understand, they’re far too snobby
This isn’t a curse, just a hobby
If they saw me like this I know they’d panic
But I’m not crazed, on drugs or manic
I feel peace when I see your lipless smile
I know I’m just a harmless necrophile.