On my day, Play the fiddle as I’m lowered. Watch the sun go down, but not in anger. Watch the moon rise, As she collects a new night to watch unfold. Walk away with straight backs and high chins, And don’t come back til you’ve had your rest.
When I die do not blame your crafting hands As they couldn’t do what you wanted. Nothing will stop my judgement day. When I die, keep that head high, As my memory is lowered, Into a place in your heart. There is no time to weep. So when you hear that fiddle, Grant me this one wish.