That's Your Funeral

He's a born undertaker's mute
I can see him in his black silk suit
Following behind the funeral procession
With his features fixed in a suitable expression
There'll be horses with tall balck plumes
To escort us to the family tombs
With mourners
In all corners
Who've been taught to week in tune.

Then the coffin lined with satin
That's your funeral
That's your funeral.

Large enough to wear your hat in
That's your funearl
That's your funeral.

We're just here to glamourize you for that
Endless sleep
You might just as well look fetching
When you're six feet deep.

At the wake we'll drink a toddy
To the body beautiful
That's your funeral
Not our funeral
That's your funeral.

If you're fond of overeating
That's your funeral
That's your funeral
Starve yourself by undereating
That's your funeral
That's your funeral?

Visualize the earth descentind on you clod by clod
You can't come back when you're buried
Underneath the ...sod.

We will not reduce our prices
Keep your vices usual
That's your funeral
Not our funeral
Not our funeral
That's your funeral.

I don't think this song is funny
That's your funeral
Here's the boy, now where's the money?
That's your funeral
That's your funeral.

We don't harbour thoughts macabre
There's no need to frown.

In the end we'll either burn you up or nail you donw
We love coughs and wheezes
And diseases called incurable
That's your funeral
No one else's funearl.

That's your...
That's your...
Funeral!