Please Mr. Gravedigger
There's a little churchyard just along the wayIt used to be Lambeth's finest arrayOf tombstones, epitaphs, wreaths, flowers all that jazzTill the war came along and someone dropped a bomb on the lot
And in this little yard, there's a little old manWith a little shovel in his little bitty handHe seems to spend all his days puffing fags and digging gravesHe hates the reverend vicar and he lives all alone in his home
Ah-choo ! excuse me
Please Mr. Gravedigger, don't feel ashamedAs you dig little holes for the dead and the maimedPlease Mr. Gravedigger, I couldn't careIf you found a golden locket full of some girl's hairAnd you put it in your pocket
God, it's pouring down
Her mother doesn't know about your sentimental joyShe thinks it's down below with the rest of her toysAnd Ma wouldn't understand, so I won't tellSo keep your golden locket all safely hid away in your pocket
Yes, Mr. GD, you see me every day , st ....ah choo !Standing in the same spot by a certain graveMary-Ann was only 10, full of life and oh so gayAnd I was the wicked man who took her life awayVery selfish, Oh God
No, Mr. GD, you won't tellAnd just to make sure that you keep it to yourselfI've started digging holes my friendAnd this one here's for you