I'd have them bury me dacent and raise a loud cry. I don't want St. James Infirmary sung, but I'd like the instructions followed to a T, including, On my hearse a jazz band playing ("Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone" would be an appropriate selection), To raise a little hell as we roll along. And a chorus girl to sing me one last song ("Let's Go Get Stoned" - Amboy Dukes version, please). And don't forget the straight-laced shoes and box-back coat. Thank you.