Will I, for my final rest,
In the casket, be all dressed,
Just so folk can pass me by
And with saddened hearts, they cry?
Will the earthworm have a meal
When they 'ventually reveal
Me, interred deep in the soil?
NO, I'd rather, they, me, boil.
Keep the vestments for th'forlorn
Have me burnt, as day was born,
Scatter me amongst the sand
Somewhere warm, in this dear land.
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