Gravediggress dig me
A hole I can bury
All of my love in
All of my holy
Old gravediggress by the dried out brook
Whose babble turned to gravel
And my company took
I used to watch the butterflies
Pretend that it's spring
When December, can't remember
Not a damn cold thing
Old gravedigger by the burnt out tree
Who held a hive a murmur
But no more bees
I used to hear the wind
Make speak and sing the leaves
Seems so long I felt
But a shy and tender breeze
Gravediggress dig me
A hole I can bury
All of my love in
All of my holy
Old scarecrow wounded at the knee
Lost your button eyes
And most of your stuffing
Hay for a heart and hay for a brain
If your mama was sweeter
Then you might be sane