John Wesley Harding - The Funeral Band Lyrics

The funeral band plays a song of despair
For the mourners who wish they were dead
Half of the crowd says "I spit on your grave"
While the other says take me instead
The church bells are wringing the tears from our eyes
And it looks like you're lying in bed

So I'll see you in the beyond
It's high time that we were gone ahead
With a hand for the funeral band

The funeral bands bids adieu, au revoir
Bon voyage and then Goodnight, Irene
A low flying plane spells out words in the sky
But nobody knows what they mean
The cotton wool letters fade into grey
Like the smoke on our chewing gum dreams

Only the two of us know
They wrote the words "hello" and "Please
Give a hand for the funeral band"

The funeral band takes their tips from the hat
That they left surreptitiously near
Your people remembered you as they walked out
And their change clinked and turned into beer
You only live once but there's plenty of you
And you die every day of the year

Before their echo dies
I came to say goodbye, my dear
With a hand from this funeral band