Memoirs of An Undertaker

Oh yes I do remember when we buried poor aunt Jean
She’d gone from a size 0 up to a size 14
That’s why we told the family we didn’t think it best
To bury her in her most favorite slinky cocktail dress
No amount of alterations really made for a clean line
As she hadn’t worn that dress since 1989
But they did not appreciate my well meant intervening
And so the word ‘viewing’ would take on a whole new meaning.

And remember that time when we picked up grandpa Ned
He died one night so peacefully right in his own bed
But I’m sure the family found our technique rather shoddy
Our laughable ineptness at attempts to move the body
I had him round the arms, Johnny had him round the knees
A coffee table in the way and an ill timed sneeze
Well let’s just put it this way, I never thought I’d say
You’re grandfather’s body is wedged in the stairway

And some stop and wonder how I work with these conditions
The eyes that sink, the mouths that gape, the bodily emissions
Amazed at how it is that daily I don’t blow a gasket
With angry relatives who tussle right into the caskets
Dismembered body pieces, putty, wax and string it’s set
Until they can be propped up much like a marionette
Oh I must admit it isn’t easy to be me
But there’s something to be said about job security