Memoriam

Fifteen bandsmen stand in line,
their linen white as flour,
their uniforms are stiff as death
and ready at the hour.

The weather casts a sullen mood
the air is very still,
the clouds withhold their tears for
they know its not a drill.

A rusty trumpet crudely blares,
to spit its splitting cry,
and suddenly disturbs the air:
three crows take to the sky,

Three crows! I knew that was the sign,
I saw it in my dreams,
I heard the flutter of their wings
I heard their mocking screams

Once hidden, now look where they perch
across the gallows beam
Three corvine friends attend my death;
how pleasant this must seem.

As Heav'n in answer to my prayer,
could find no crueler jape,
to see her son escorted thus
on this divined escape.

The air is cold, the world is calm
the journey is not far;
A few more steps, then sudden looms
my waiting gallows bar.

The fifteen bandsmen stand in line,
and tap their tiny drums,
this is the music of the damned,
the mad, incessant thrum.

Do not feel bad that I am gone,
my love, don't cry for me.
Before the seventh hour is past
my spirit will be free.

Then I shall roam with wind and rain
and visit you at night,
to kiss you on your little lips
before the morning's light.

Do not bring flowers to my grave,
nor search for my tombstone,
I'll share my cave with many men;
I will not be alone.

There's just one thing I'll ask of you,
for all the joy I brought,
a promise you will not make me
another afterthought.

For many come, and many go
but I, I will remain,
you'll see my face in every pool
and hear me in the rain.