Oh Fools!
The pain, the unheeded advice-
Oh Feste, oh gravediggers, oh Fools!

Hiding behind the garb of jesters,
I hear your truth.
I know the fate sleeping in the riddle.

Alas! Poor Yourick knows it well.
For that which lives must die,
And that which dies has no tongue,
No verbage to warn.

Whilst the kings laugh
At morbid jokes,
The Fool sheds a tear,
For behind all good jests
Is a terrible truth.