No money to bury him.
The relief gave Forty-Four.
The undertaker told ’em,
You’ll need Sixty more
For a first-class funeral,
A hearse and two cars—
And maybe your friends’ll
Send some flowers.
His wife took a paper
And went around.
Everybody that gave something
She put ’em down.
She raked up a Hundred
For her man that was dead.
His buddies brought flowers.
A funeral was had.
A minister preached—
And charged Five
To bless him dead
And praise him alive.
Now that he’s buried—
God rest his soul—
Reckon there’s no charge
For graveyard mold.
I wonder what makes
A funeral so high?
A poor man ain’t got
No business to die!