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Please Mr. Gravedigger
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Bowie David
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Bowie David
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David Bowie (1998)
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Please Mr. Gravedigger
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There's a little churchyard just along the way
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It used to be Lambeth's finest array
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Of tombstones, epitaphs, wreaths, flowers all that jazz
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Till the war came along and someone dropped a bomb on the lot
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And in this little yard, there's a little old man
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With a little shovel in his little bitty hand
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He seems to spend all his days puffing fags and digging graves
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He hates the reverend vicar and he lives all alone in his home
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Ah-choo ! excuse me
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Please Mr. Gravedigger, don't feel ashamed
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As you dig little holes for the dead and the maimed
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Please Mr. Gravedigger, I couldn't care
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If you found a golden locket full of some girl's hair
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And you put it in your pocket
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God, it's pouring down
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Her mother doesn't know about your sentimental joy
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She thinks it's down below with the rest of her toys
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And Ma wouldn't understand, so I won't tell
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So keep your golden locket all safely hid away in your pocket
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Yes, Mr. GD, you see me every day , st ....ah choo !
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Standing in the same spot by a certain grave
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Mary-Ann was only 10, full of life and oh so gay
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And I was the wicked man who took her life away
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Very selfish, Oh God
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No, Mr. GD, you won't tell
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And just to make sure that you keep it to yourself
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I've started digging holes myself
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And this one here's for you
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Lifted our girl, she apparently doesn't know of it
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Hello misses, thought she'd be a little girl
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Bloody obscene, catch pneumonia or something in this rain
David Bowie - Please, Mr. Gravedigger
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