The Grave Diggers Song
They lean upon their shovels
smoke a Marlborough,
keep away from the mourners,
always shovel ready.
Even the utility hut is hidden yet ready,
it’s back where the graves peter out into headless mounds.
Theirs’s not the burden of loss, nor are they tasked by grief
as the undertaker crew are.
Swift, and professional,
they resist swapping vulgarities until the work is done;
just fill in the coffin-plugged hole,
hum the ‘grave-digging’ song:
“So long you’re almost done.
Ours the winch and lowering straps.
Ours the pork chops for dinner,
Ours this pleasant labor.
Ours the cold beer.
Yours the slow fuse of corruption.
So long,
shovels need cleaning,
the boss is watching
so long,
so long,
so long.”
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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