There was an old Johnny Cash song which I've never been able to keep a straight face for long enough to do. I thought I'd posted it before, but apparently the drink and technology do not mix. Pity really.

I live in the cemetery,
Old caretaker they call me.
In the wintertime I rake the leaves,
And in the summer I dig the weeds.
When a funeral comes, the people cry and pray,
They bury their dead, then they all go away.
But through their grief I still can see
Their hate and greed and jealousy.
So here I work and I somehow hide
From a world that rushes by outside.
And each night when I rest my head
I'm contented as the peaceful dead.

But who's gonna cry when old John dies,
Who's gonna cry when old John dies?

Once I was a young man,
Dashing with the girls.
Now no-one wants an old man,
I've lost my handsome curls.
But I wanna say, when my time comes,
Lay me facin' the risin' sun.
Don't plant flowers where my head should be.
Maybe God'll let some grow for me.
And all the little children that I love like my own,
Will they be sorry that old John's gone?

Who's gonna cry when old John dies,
Who's gonna cry when old John dies?


Lugubrious enough for anyone.

Bobby Bob.