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JOHN LEES FUNERAL

John lees dead And the motorcade winds Toward the old hill And its chapel choked with vines. The clouds are dark and swollen. Theres a tear in his widows eyes And ravens deck the branches Of the trees as they roll by. As the gates groan wide The clouds begin to burst And the sky throws down its spears, A thousand tears on John Lees hearse. Now one-hundred dark umbrellas Like black flowers bloom around A pit that yawns to swallow One more memory in the ground. And John Lees windows weeping In a veil of black lace (Though some detect a smile, If only just a trace). The priest, he babbles nonsense About heaven, God and sin As the casket slowly lowers In the low and mournful din. The dearly beloved Who are gathered here today Will forget death in an hour As they drink their tears away. And John Lees funerals over. Hes down too deep to dream And only grass will go there And not until the spring.

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