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 ******

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.