A Mourning Wife
Till death do us part
Those were the vows we made before God
I still love you even though you are gone
Your resting place was not a grave,
Marked by a grey stone
It was the bottom of a bottle coated with rye foam
You're jovial in the pub
But a husk when you're home
I mourn my husband,
For there's a part of you dead inside
Perhaps it was the one that housed all your love
Is it rum upon your breath
Or a rotting heart?
Who can tell the two apart?
I have fulfilled my vows,
For the bottle has stolen your life
Let us part then,
I'll share a bed with someone who's alive.
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