Graveyard Blues

Confetti scattered on the ground Drifts against a recent mound Next to which a grave is found. A gaping grave, an open maw; A gaping, waiting open maw, Waiting like an open door. Refrain : It’s really not what I would choose : I’ve got the ghoulish graveyard blues. A lonely hand marks out the hour As the clock strikes in the tower. A bunch of faded plastic flowers Leans against a granite stone. The wind through Scots pine starts to moan O’er centuries of village bones. Refrain As Victorian elegies fade, Memorials, sentimental made Now linger sadly in the shade. Tombstones crack, inscriptions fall And distant loved ones fail to call; Weeds spring up and grass is stall. Refrain A world of contrasts you’ll find here, Though timeless, death, decay are near, Finality may draw a tear But sunshine sparkles through the trees And Spring lambs gambol at their ease And wild flowers buzz with bumble bees. Refrain : But still I just can’t seem to lose Those ever-present graveyard blues.