Have you ever thought as a hearse goes by
That one of these days you are going to die?
Oooo Oooo Ooo Ooo
Where shall we be in a hundred years
They nail you up in a wooden box,
And fill the gaps with stones and
They lower you down on a rotten rope,
It's just your luck if the dam thing
The worms crawl in, the worms crawl
They crawl in thin and crawl out stout,
Your eyes fall in, your teeth fall out,
Your brain comes drifting down your
The moral of this tale belated,
Is-Don't be buried but be cremated.