When I die I want you to turn my pockets out.
I can’t take anything with me anyway.
When I die, turn my pockets out.
So both God and the Devil know I’ve paid.
When I go, I want you to set me on fire.
Set me ablaze on a humble pyre.
I don’t want it grand, that’s not what I’ve planned.
When I go, when that is I don’t know, that is what I desire.
When I’m done, I want you to hold my son.
Tell him it’s ok and that I’ve had my fun.
My children I love you, I’m right there above you
Don’t you worry so hard, sing the songs I’ve sung.
When I pass, I want you to cry.
Let the tears flow for a moment, let them fly.
This somber stone do not hold, I’d rather you let it go
This is not my forever goodbye.
When I’ve gone, I want you to mourn.
With smoke and ale and a cornucopia horn.
I’ve lived a good life, despite the meddlesome strife
And when your times comes I’ll meet you on a golden shore.
When I’m cold, I want you to bury me away.
It does not do to overstay.
To have known you has been a pleasure I shall treasure forever
I’ll put in a good word for you, I’ve plenty good to say.
When I die I want you to turn my pockets out.
I can’t take anything with me anyway.
When I die, turn my pockets out.
So both God and the Devil know I’ve paid.
I love you dearly, my dear,
In your arms, I’ve never feared,
Know my love isn’t trapped in this grave.
My Love, to you I am bound, though I’m now in the ground.
I’ll meet you next time, I’ll see you that day.
About the Creator
Benny Shlesinger
Amateur philosopher, avid keyboard pitter-patterer
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