Billy...
Pray silence for my rotten wife
Into whose hands I leave my life
Already separated into heaps
One for burning, one for selling cheap
In all the hungry vultures prance
Distant cousins, long-lost aunts
Fingers fondling the furniture
And some clanking by the cutlery
There's Uncle Silas with my silver spoons
And he's drumming on his knee
Buttock's Requiem
Billy...
Alas, poor Bill, I knew him not
It's such a shame he has to rot
And in his finest trousers, what a waste
Nowadays a shroud is thought good taste
There's little Colin tripping in my brogues
And he's dancing to the tune
Of Buttock's Requiem
Billy...
Pray silence for my rotten son
Into whose hands I leave the sum
Of many ways to drown and fade away
And his lovely wife has come to stay
Perusing magazines of sun-kissed cruises
She's whistling through her teeth
Buttock's Requiem