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de Protomartyr

They bathed me
They clothed me
Not in the dress I loved all those years ago

They dropped me
In the cheap plot
To save a couple dimes seems like such a crime

And all that loving, that's leaving
Replaced now with complaining down in this hole
And I'll be spitting on the living 'til I get my cross of Connemara stone

To save money
For his plain wife
My stupid son never grasped the finer points of life

My guts burst
But my mind stays sharp
In this cold clay, the cemetery dust

And all that loving, that's leaving
Replaced now with complaining down in this hole
And I'll be spitting on the living 'til I get my cross of Connemara stone

They'll be
Talking and talking eternally
Fussing and fighting eternally
Cursing and crying eternally
Bawling, back-biting eternally

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