Please Mr. Gravedigger

Please Mr. Gravedigger - David Bowie (大衛·鮑伊)

Written by：David Bowie

There's a little churchyard just along the way

It used to be Lambeth's finest array

Of tombstones epitaphs wreaths flowers all that jazz

'Til the war came along and someone dropped a bomb on the lot

And in this little yard there's a little old man

With a little shovel in his little bitty hand

He seems to spend all his days puffing fags and digging graves

He hates the reverend vicar and he lives all alone in his home

Ah choo excuse me

Please Mr. Gravedigger don't feel ashamed

As you dig little holes for the dead and the maimed

Please Mr. Gravedigger I couldn't care

If you found a golden locket full of some girl's hair

And you put it in your pocket

God it's pouring down

Her mother doesn't know about your sentimental joy

She thinks it's down below with the rest of her toys

And ma wouldn't understand so I won't tell

So keep your golden locket all safely hid away in your pocket

Yes Mr. GD you see me every day

Standing in the same spot by a certain grave

Mary-Ann was only 10 full of life and oh so gay

And I was the wicked man who took her life away

Very selfish oh god

No Mr. GD you won't tell

And just to make sure that you keep it to yourself

I've started digging holes my friend

And this one here's for you